


Triangulum

by Pavonis (Kobold_Bard)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Multi, Murder, Nonbinary Character, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Other, Pansexual Christopher Pike, Penis In Vagina Sex, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Porn with Feelings, Rough Oral Sex, Violence, only the bad guys die
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:34:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28276146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kobold_Bard/pseuds/Pavonis
Summary: Four years and three days ago the USS Discovery disappeared into the future, taking the vast majority of her original crew with her. Most, but not all. Those that stayed behind formed a special bond.Well, some more than others.(A story where Christopher Pike is a fucking fantastic human, polyam is NBD, and Ash Tyler got a few *cough* ~gifts~ from his Klingon heritage.)
Relationships: Ash Tyler/Original Character, Christopher PIke/Original Character, Christopher Pike/Ash Tyler | Voq, Christopher Pike/Original Character/Ash Tyler, past Christopher Pike/Vina, past Michael Burnham/Ash Tyler | Voq
Comments: 11
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just couldn't buy that everyone on the Discovery decided that they wanted to go into the future. Like Una said, the strength of Starfleet is its diversity and there is just no way I could calculate that all like 150 people were of exactly the same mind on this one. Also, Memory Alpha helpfully told me that it was the "senior staff" who decided to remain with the ship so I ran with that.
> 
> I *promise* this does get to the Piler, just not for some chapters. I will sail to my death on that rare ship. But this was the story that came to me, so here it is. I hope you enjoy.

The soft slide of the door to his personal quarters opening wasn’t at all a surprise, so Chris just started in with the talking as he headed to the replicator. “What is it going to be? Wine? Something stronger?” 

“Well, we missed the date by three days due to that absolute clusterfuck on Velusia II, so I am thinking stronger is in order.” There was a _whumf_ as a body landed unceremoniously on the small couch in the Captain’s quarters on the _USS Enterprise_.

“Computer, pull up my jazz collection. Start at track twelve.” Chris said as he turned to see a lean body slumped into the cushion, face hidden in one elbow. “What’s up, Doc?” he joked. No response. Something seemed more serious. “Mett?”

“Could’ve really used the old team out there,” was the slightly muffled reply. The replicator chirped, Chris grabbed its contents, and made his way over to the couch with two tumblers, ice clinking softly.

There was no question as to whom Mett was referencing. Four years and three days ago the _USS_ _Discovery_ disappeared into the future, taking the vast majority of her original crew with her. Most, but not all. Two crewmembers had petitioned Captain Pike to stay behind with the _Enterprise_. One was a young engineer who had just found out she was pregnant and was already planning to take a leave of absence from Starfleet. The other was one of the lead science officers.

Mett Zemke, M.D., Ph.D., was an xenoepidemiologist and (now former) Starfleet lieutenant. After everything that happened with the _Discovery_ , including being grilled unscrupulously for a solid week by Starfleet Command investigators, he had resigned his commission as Lead Science Officer for Epidemiology and taken up a medical research position on Starbase 8. Not that that had stopped him from getting wrapped up in Starfleet business thanks to one Captain Christopher Pike.

Those of them who had gone through everything with _Discovery_ , particularly those more intimately acquainted with the “exploded'' ship herself, had a bit of a special bond. During that excruciating week getting repeatedly punched by Command they had been kept strictly isolated from each other. For a couple weeks _after_ that they had kind of collapsed inward, gravity of the situation pulling them together for a short time. Spock, Ash, Chris, Una, and Mett had often decompressed over drinks or watched an old movie in someone’s temporary dirtside quarters. The former _Discovery_ crew member had seemed desperately grateful that those from the _Enterprise_ had welcomed him, even if for a short time, while he was re-calibrating himself.

Mett and Chris connected quickly in those days. Both had been raised in the North American southwest and had fond memories of horses from their childhoods. Within two hours of their first real meeting they already shared an inside joke about saddling up ornery horses, much to Una and Spock’s bemusement. So, from Chris’s perspective, it seemed natural for them to keep in contact after they went their separate ways from Starfleet HQ. And if the _Enterprise_ happened to need a consult on alien diseases in its adventures, well, the Captain didn’t wait for the Federation to assign a specialist to him.

Surprisingly, the first time that they had spent any length of time alone together was actually eight months after the _Enterprise_ had launched again post- _Discovery_ and exactly one year after the loss. The _Enterprise_ ended up at Starbase 8 for a resupply and Mett had shown up at Chris’s door with an honest-to-god bottle of unreplicated tequila. Neither Chris nor Mett seemed perturbed by the ease with which they had fallen into physical proximity, hands landing on shoulders, on arms, on backs, on knees, legs pressed together on the couch, then across laps, falling asleep on the other’s shoulder while only half listening to a broadcast radio show. After that they had made it a point to spend each anniversary of _Discovery_ ’s loss together.

In between anniversaries and expert consults (and the occasional resupply at Starbase 8) they wrote to each other, long missives that waxed poetic about growing up in the mesquite or reflected on their days at Starfleet Academy. Chris had only been a handful of years ahead of Mett, so they knew many of the same people, the same time capsule of Academy microculture. Chris wasn’t usually an overly sentimental guy, but something about talking with Mett at least made him feel a bit of nostalgia for the specks of history they shared. More than that, they shared a lot of just general life perspectives and priorities in common, including an intense focus on listening to others and personal growth. Outside of Una, Mett was probably Chris’s closest confidant these days. 

So as Chris sat down and handed Mett a tumbler of tequila, he placed a free hand on the other’s neck, put his thumb just below Mett’s jaw, fingertips barely tangling in the roots of dark brown hair pulled into a tight, short tail. “Hey. You okay?” Yes, a botched mission on top of a poignant anniversary was something to be distressed about, but...

Mett removed his elbow from his face and downed the full two fingers of liquor in one go before he looked up at Chris, who was now blinking in alarm. This was usually more of a sipping kind of event. Mett put the tumbler down and brought a hand up to Chris’s wrist near his own neck. They locked eyes for a long moment. “Can I trust you?” Mett’s voice was soft and uncharacteristically small.

“Christ, Mett, yes of course.” Chris put his untouched tumbler down on the coffee table and put his now-free hand on his friend’s knee. When the other wasn’t forthcoming he chuckled nervously, “Not gonna lie, you’re scaring me a bit here.”

“I…” Mett tried, stopped, swallowed hard. Grey eyes darted to the side and back, an anxious edge to them. He absently stroked the curves of the bones of Chris’s wrist. “What are we, Chris?” 

Chris felt the air get punched out of his lungs in a huff. He froze, eyes locked to Mett’s. It wasn’t that Chris hadn’t asked himself this same question, far from it. He had actually asked (and answered) that question to himself at length, usually along with turning up the water in the shower to muffle his moans, but this wasn’t just some flight of fantasy. Real talk time. 

Chris’s mind wandered back to the last anniversary. They had actually both been on Starbase 1 on official Federation business. It was a long day of delegations delivering speeches about how the Federation and Starfleet should manage future interstellar pandemics at the intersection of the Prime Directive; the next day would be spent workshopping solutions and (hopefully) legislating new policy. The _Enterprise_ was there to testify as to their recent experience with two separate pandemics, one with a non-space-faring civilization. Una and Spock had accompanied Chris and Mett to dinner at the end of the first day of the caucus. After dinner and a few drinks, when Mett had suggested that he was going to walk the long way back to their lodging, Una gave Chris a knowing smirk and dragged a protesting Spock away by the elbow. Spock could walk through the bioluminescent gardens another time.

They walked slowly in comfortable silence, plants twinkling around them in the artificial night. Chris slid his hand into Mett’s and tangled their fingers together. Mett smiled a little bashfully in response, cheekbones glowing. Chris beamed and they kept walking. Later they fell asleep on Chris’s hotel room bed, tangled up in one another, but fully clothed, Mett’s head on Chris’s chest. 

Then they hadn’t discussed it. Well, Chris had tried once, on a rare live holocall, but Mett rerouted the conversation so fast Chris felt his head spin. So he had abandoned it. There was nothing else to do while they were apart other than tread water. Chris sure as hell wasn’t going to risk things going pear-shaped when he couldn’t pick up the pieces in person.

Chris’s brain resurfaced from the tide of memory just in time to watch as Mett shifted, his legs moving to straddle Chris’s lap, pushing the Captain to sit back into the couch. The younger man was all long limbs and lean muscle, surprisingly strong as he pushed Chris’s shoulders back. 

Chris had to tilt his chin up to keep eye contact as Mett looked down at him, grey eyes hooded in the dim light, quietly waiting for an answer. “What are we?…” Chris parroted the question back, slid his hand up from Mett’s neck, cupped his face, brushed his thumb over thin lips. “Other than the _Enterprise_? This… us...” he slid his other hand up Mett’s thigh, “is... everything.”

Mett inhaled shakily and turned his face into Chris’s touch, almost hiding. “Chris…” his voice sounded wrecked and he kept his eyes closed. “If what I am about to say changes anything between us, I just need you to know that I feel the same. That I…”

Chris _had_ to interrupt, pulled Mett hard into a bruising kiss, fierce and open and affirming. Mett practically sobbed into it, slid hands into short gray hair and pulled. For a moment Chris’s world narrowed to an electric wet slide of lips and tongue. They parted panting. Chris sounded - felt - like he had been going ten rounds of boxing. “Please, Mett…” He pressed their foreheads together to ground himself; everything suddenly felt so tenuous.

Mett swallowed once, an obviously nervous reflex, then leaned back a little to make very deliberate eye contact. “I was born… anatomically female.”

Chris sat up straight, his gaze turning intense, brows drawn in concentration, in very careful attention, but he gently held Mett in place with an arm around his waist, nonverbally asking him to stay put. He pointedly looked down Mett’s torso to his hips, back up. “That’s… thank you, for telling me. Truly, thank you. But… and I really _really_ don’t want to sound flippant here... but, that’s not a problem for me. You know I am attracted to men. And you are a man.” And yet Mett did not indicate any relief, did not feel or look more relaxed. “But there is something else? You were assigned female at birth, but are male…”

Mett bit his lip and considered Chris for a minute. “You like women, too, right? What about someone who is neither? Or both?”

Chris shook his head, confused, not sure where this was going. “I like individuals.” He placed a light kiss on Mett’s downturned lips, trying for reassuring. “And I like you.” Kiss. “ _Like_ like you.” Kiss. “Very much.” Kiss. 

There it was. Mett sighed and leaned into the kiss ever-so-slightly. “Okay. Okayokay.” Sounded like he was psyching himself up. “Then maybe this will be fine, and I am nervous for no reason, but you really should know what you might be, uh, getting _into_.”

Chris chuckled at the pun and ran his hands up Mett’s sides. “I hope I might have the chance to get into something, yes…”

Mett arched into the touch for a moment, near purring, and then slid one foot to the ground. He unzipped his pants and tugged them down slightly. There was a moment of nervous laughter from Mett when Chris gave a ragged inhale. Chris watched in a bit of awe as his hand was guided down Mett’s t-shirt-covered chest, over the planes of abdominals, and into his pants.

A dizzying rush of arousal overwhelmed Chris as his palm curved around soft hairs and his fingers dipped into smooth, warm, and wet. Very _wet._ “Fuck. You… you’re…” Chris’s brain stalled and restarted a few times, puzzle pieces slowly clicking together. Mett ground down onto his hand with a shade of a smirk and Chris let out a string of curses as his fingertips were pushed slightly upwards and inwards. Nope. No mistaking that. That was a pussy. That was… very unexpected. And not in a bad way given the unsolicited moan Chris heard slipping through his own damn teeth. “My god, you are so wet for me.” Chris froze. “Is it okay for me to say that? To talk like that?”

Mett ground down harder and Chris whined as his hand was trapped between his own knee and Mett’s body, fingers getting pushed deeper still. Just one crook and he would have smooth muscles clenched around him. Jesus, that felt good. Gods, he hadn’t even thought about fucking someone with a vagina in… well, since Vina. Chris shoved that thought far and away. Mett leaned in to nuzzle his ear. “Yes. Absolutely yes. I feel both male and female, defined by neither. I like having a vulva, a vagina. That is me.” He bit at the Captain’s earlobe. “So please fuck me, Christopher Pike.”

Chris groaned again, fully back in the present. “Not gonna make it to that point if you keep talking like that.”

“Hmmm... words are good for you, huh?” The mischief in Mett’s eyes signaled danger to Chris. Sweet sweet danger. “What if I told you that you get to pick?” Mett pulled his shirt off and pressed himself downward again, gasped softly as one finger slipped inside. Chris wanted to swallow that gasp. “I am rather an equal opportunity partner, you see. So your pick: I’ll come just as hard with your dick in my vagina...” Another roll of his hips, a gasp, and Chris did lean in to kiss him that time. “...or in my mouth…” He said as they parted, leaned in further to whisper into Chris’s ear. “... or in my ass. Your choice.”

Chris felt himself _growl_. “With a little creativity and the right tools I won’t have to choose.” At this distance he got to watch Mett’s eyes dilate further, just hair-thin slivers of stormy grey left. “Oh, so you like talking, too?” Chris pushed his finger deeper, crooked it hard, causing Mett’s body to go taught like a bowstring. “You like that idea, Mett? Getting fucked from all sides? I have to admit, it will be relatively easy to fuck your pussy with my hand in your ass.” Chris was thrilled by the whimpers his partner was giving him, eyes unfocused and lips parted around panting breaths. “But I will have to get creative about your lovely mouth.”

There was more teeth to this kiss than the others, an edge of frantic escalation now that the floodgates had been opened. “Yes. Yesyesyesyes.” Mett hissed, then bit at Chris’s bottom lip.

“Okay, I am not twenty-five any more.” Chris lifted Mett’s hips and stood up. “Let’s advance this to the bedroom?” 

Mett clung to Chris’s neck. “Advance away, Captain.”

Chris snorted, but shuffled them from the living room area into his bedroom, pulling Mett’s hair out from its tail and watching it brush his shoulders. He played with the strands for a moment then abruptly shifted his attitude, tugging firmly and slanting Mett’s head for a deeper kiss. 

Breathy laughter and a shove later and Mett was sprawled on the bed and Chris removed Mett’s boots, then pants and briefs. The Captain stepped back to admire his partner. Mett blushed deep red under the attention. “Chris. This feels a little lopsided, eh?” Mett sat up to grab at the hem of Chris’s shirt. 

“I suppose I can admire more later.” He shrugged off his shirt and dropped one knee onto the bed, in between Mett’s legs. Chris ran his hands along Mett’s strong thighs, humming at the feel of soft skin and hair there. “At least, I hope there will be a later?” His hands moved up, over ribs and faint scars on a flat chest.

“Many laters, if I have anything to say about it.” Mett murmured against the skin of Chris’s neck, and it caused a bloom of warmth in Chris’s chest. Mett kissed down onto his shoulder, hands running over chest hair and sculpted muscles. “Fuck. Finally having my hands on your skin... “ Mett let his blunt nails scratch down the length of Chris’s back until they caught on his waistband and he grunted in approval. “...why didn’t I do this four years ago, again?”

Chris chuckled and started working on his own pants with one hand, the other tangled into Mett’s hair. He used the leverage to angle Mett's face up. “At least we’re here now.” At this distance Mett’s smile was blinding and Chris couldn’t stop himself from kissing it as Mett helped him pull his pants down and off. He hissed when his cock sprung free and the cool air of the room washed over it. 

Then a gasp as Mett rang his fingertips ever-so-lightly along Chris's length, barely a breath of touch, leaning back onto his elbow to lazily look up at Chris through dark eyelashes. “Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are, Chris?” Chris felt himself blush but didn’t look away from Mett’s eyes. “I _almost_ don’t know where to start.” Mett’s expression turned suddenly predatory. With a quick leg sweep and twist Chris was on his back with what was clearly a tiger in his lap, head cocked to the side and calculating. “Almost.”

Chris watched Mett slide down his body like a whisper and settle on the floor between his knees, pulling his hips towards the edge of the bed. He propped himself up on one elbow just in time to see Mett lick a long stripe up his dick, one arm on his hip, that hand holding the base, the other hand rolling over his balls. Chris was pretty sure he was going to remember the blissful look on Mett’s face as he guided Chris’s cock into his mouth for the rest of his life. 

Mett made it about halfway down, sucked back up, and then, with precome beading on his lower lip, he smiled up at Chris. Chris didn’t have time to analyze the foreboding feeling before his cock was sliding down a tight throat and Mett’s nose hit his pubic bone. 

Chris collapsed back onto the bed with a string of curses. “Well isn’t that fucking karma.” He laughed through his moans as Mett repeatedly swallowed. Then he looked up and hummed a question at Chris, who continued to chuckle while he held Mett’s hair out of the way to get a better view. “I’ve done that many times to other partners, never had it done to me.” Mett’s chuckle vibrated through Chris. “Fuck, yes. Now I get why they all fall apart on me.” 

Mett swallowed once more and then pulled off with a long suck. His lips were red from being stretched wide. “Happy to oblige.” He licked his lips and even that made Chris groan. “If you come like this am I taking you out of the game for the rest of the evening?”

“Well, I am probably not going to go comatose.” Mett rolled his eyes, but Chris continued. “It’ll probably take me a couple hours or so to be ready to go again… but that won’t stop me from finding out how many times _you_ can come in an hour…”

Mett gasped. “Oh. Oh yes. Challenge accepted.” He crawled up Chris’s body, kissed his lips soundly. “But I have to admit, I did lie a little earlier.” He kept moving upwards, turned around, and then Chris realized that his shoulders were between Mett’s knees. 

“Lied?” Chris would have been embarrassed by the crack in his voice if he had the extra neurons to spare. Right now all he could do is look up at Mett helplessly.

Mett dropped onto his hands, on all fours over Chris, and looked back at him through the tunnel of their bodies. “I am not _quite_ equal opportunity. I come hardest with a cock in my mouth.” And with that Mett lowered his whole body, mouth sliding down Chris’s cock until his nose brushed his balls and pussy directly in Chris’s face.

Well, Chris didn’t need to be told twice. _He_ came hardest when he knew his partner was lost in pleasure, so this was going to be fucking glorious. Chris grabbed Mett’s hips, pulled down hard, and _dove in_.

Chris hadn’t had this particular flavor of sex in a long while, since his years as an ensign fresh out of the Academy, but apparently he hadn’t lost his knack, based on the fantastically distracting vibrations moving through his cock. Fuck. At this rate, he wasn’t going to last long given that _\- fucking christ_ \- Mett had started teasingly pressing a fingertip into his asshole. Well. Game fucking on.

Mett whined when Chris moved his face away for a moment, but he cried out around his mouthful when Chris pressed a slick finger into his ass. What Chris wasn’t expecting was for Mett to _grind down_ , not only taking Chris’s whole finger in one go, but riding his face. Short on air and fastly approaching climax, Chris channeled his moans into his lips and tongue on Mett’s clitoris.

Mett’s cries started to progressively drop in pitch as Chris stopped any pretense of holding his hips in place and just let Mett rock out his own pleasure. No one had ever just ridden Chris’s face with this kind of abandon and it might just be one of the most erotic things to ever happen to him. 

Chris knew he had it when he sucked on Mett’s clit hard, slight edge of teeth, and Mett’s knees parted impossibly wider to press violently twitching thighs to his shoulders. As the crest of Mett’s orgasm washed over them both, Mett let out a deep, low moan and at the same time, fuck if Chris knew how, took his cock deeper down his throat, nose buried into his balls. 

Chris turned his face into Mett’s thigh and sobbed, “Yes, Mett yessss.” as he emptied himself down that gorgeous throat. 

Mett collapsed to the side of Chris only after he was sure he had swallowed every drop. They both lay there, panting hard, Mett chuckling softly in satisfaction. Chris moved his hand to find Mett’s and tangle their fingers. Mett squeezed Chris’s hand. 

Chris was the first to move, after several minutes of catching their breath, to get a damp washcloth. Mett caught him wiping off his face as he returned to the bedroom. “I’d apologize, but I am pretty sure that mess is your own fault.” Mett smiled. 

“The pleasure was all mine.” Chris smiled back, sitting beside Mett and using the washcloth to gently clean his thighs, vulva, and then ass. 

Mett huffed out a laugh, stretching languidly before curling to put his head on Chris’s knee. “Well. That set the bar pretty high.” He traced idle patterns on Chris’s arm. 

Chris’s fingers wandered down the flat plane of Mett’s chest and stomach, back up, petting softly. “Good. I prefer to keep myself to high standards, shoot for the stars and all that…”

Mett grinned. “Well you certainly shot for _something..._ :” Chris groaned and dropped the washcloth directly onto Mett’s face, who then burst out laughing. 

Chris followed suit, not only from the stupid joke, but also because the ease he felt with Mett hadn’t changed despite this escalation in their status. He knew the feeling that was distilling in his chest even if it hadn’t been there in a long time. Chris wouldn’t name it out loud just yet, didn’t want to jinx this fragile thing, scare it away before it could settle back into its home. But soon. Soon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do I know that Pike is that good at sucking dick? Because of linguacode by love_in_the_time_of_kolinahr, of course: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18164984


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is that a Critical Role reference? Why yes.

“Metha.” He said, looking at Chris across the pillow. “My birth name is Metha.” They had been dozing and chatting on-and-off in post-coital bliss, but both seemed shockingly awake now, as the chrono flipped to 0400 ship time.

Chris smiled. “Thank you for telling me. Do you want me to call you that?” Those damn dimples were going to be the death of Mett.

“Not really.” Mett shrugged a shoulder. “I just wanted to tell you.” It felt good to just keep opening up to Chris. (Now in more ways than one, hah.) It felt right that this man should know his history, his life.

If you had told Mett that this is where he would be about four years after the loss of the _USS Discovery_ then he probably would have laughed in your face. Christopher Pike? _Captain Christopher Pike?_ The one who had looked disapproving when Mett had been one of the few _Disco_ crewmembers to not plow forward into the future? Who Mett had petitioned to in order to abandon his post and therefore break the Starfleet's promise of _I will die for you_? That Christopher Pike?

Not that Mett hadn’t presented a convincing argument, apparently, because Pike did let him onto the _Enterprise_ with enough time to spare that it didn’t seem suspicious that he was not on _Disco_ when it “exploded.” Barely even needed a cover story either, as two Saurian ensigns in engineering had come down with a rare viral form of scale-rot and needed particular treatment. Could Dr. Boyce have handled it? Probably. Were they back to work faster with Dr. Zemke there? Definitely.

It was only a couple of weeks later that they had all been drinking themselves through decompression in Una’s temporary San Francisco apartment. _That_ interaction with Pike went a little differently. Mett let out a snarky murmur of “and that is why you always tighten your own girth, kids” in response to someone’s story and Pike had nearly done a spit take before he burst into outright cackling. The rest of the lot looked completely confused, but Mett was just tickled that he had caused the Captain to light up like a Christmas tree. 

“The girth is how you tighten the saddle onto a horse.” Mett explained, utterly bemused, as Pike kept giggling. “It was a really bad joke.” Mett chuckled. Una broke out into a wide grin and Spock hid his smile behind another sip of his drink. Mett was pretty sure he caught the two of them sharing a knowing glance.

“It _was_ terrible!” Pike agreed, almost giddy. “But damn if I haven’t heard an actual horse joke in a lifetime.” He got up with his drink and moved across the room to the other side of the circle, plopping himself down on the floor next to Mett. “We cool kids gotta stick together, eh?” He nudged Mett’s shoulder with his own. 

And the rest was, well, history.

  
  


Chris rolled onto his side, faced Mett, ran his fingers up and down his arm. “You don’t have to answer this, but I am curious… how many people, uh, know? Not your name, I mean, about all of it?” 

Mett scooted closer and slipped a knee between Chris’s. “A handful of friends and family back on Earth. My doctors. Honestly, most people since I had my surgery just assume I am male and I am more than happy to not disabuse them of the notion.” Mett shrugged one shoulder. There was some commentary there to be made about assumptions and gender which still persisted in some species and cultures. “I usually don’t let people get close enough to find out more. Maybe if I preferred different pronouns it might come up more often, but I have been able to fly under most people’s radar for like three decades or so. Other than the, what, dozen people I’ve fucked over the years?… Honestly, you’re the first new person since… well since those weeks at Starfleet HQ after _Disco_ , actually.”

Chris’s eyebrows shot up. “If you say Una…” There had been one memorable night where Una and Mett had been braiding each other’s hair and tittering in a corner; Mett’s hair had been much longer back then, down to his waist. Mett was pretty sure that was where Chris had gotten such an idea. What Chris didn’t know is that they had been giggling and gossiping about their dear Captain and how much Mett felt comfortable with him. A story for another time.

“No!” Mett huffed laughter. “No! I happen to have a strong preference for cock, thank you very much. Although now that you mention it do you think she would wear…?”

Chris slid a hand around to grab Mett’s ass and interrupted his question with a squeeze. Rude. “She probably would if you asked her.” Mett hummed in exaggerated consideration as Chris continued. “Was it one of that group? If you don’t mind…”

“Tch. Stop that. You can ask me anything. I don’t hide things from my lovers.” Mett swatted at Chris’s shoulder, but at the same time knew the blush ran down to his collarbone. Speaking of stories… “It was, um, Ash, actually. He walked me home that night I got really shitfaced on bloodwine. I think he felt guilty since he plied me with it. All you geniuses were smart enough not to partake in that particular substance, but I could never resist tall, dark, and handsome… When we got back to my place I asked him to stay until I was a bit more sober. I really was feeling woozy. So he stayed. And then some.” 

Chris groaned and buried his face in Mett’s neck. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but fuck me that is hot.” He mouthed along Mett’s carotid, could probably feel Mett's rising pulse rate. “When you are back on Starbase 8 and I am out here all alone I am going to take that image for one hell of a ride, if you don’t mind me borrowing it?”

The laugh that bubbled up from Mett was full of joyful mischief. Well _that_ was a pleasant surprise. Stories indeed. “Please do. It certainly was a _ride_. I hadn’t walked bow-legged like that since I was first learning to barrel race.” Chris moaned and sucked hard on the skin of Mett’s neck, pulled their hips together. Oh, so this was having an _effect_. Mett made the calculated decision to continue, dropping his voice to a whisper. “He was a masterclass in stamina, Chris. He got off six times in five hours. Six. Times. I was so full of semen you might have mistaken me for a navy ship.”

Chris barked out surprised laughter at that and looked Mett in the eyes. “That image is hot as hell.” Pause. “Can I be jealous of you? Is that weird?” 

_Weird_ wasn’t the first word that came to mind, no. Arousing? Amusing? Fucking fantastic? But in for a penny… “Mmmm, you don’t have to be. He’d do the same to you if you’d let him.”

Chris faltered and his eyes went flat and distant for a moment before jolting into the present. Mett was pretty sure the good Captain’s brain just rebooted itself after a systems crash. “Pardon?” Oooh, Mett was going to tease Chris about that squeak for a loooong time.

Mett ran a hand down Chris’s chest, fingers in his chest hair, then teasingly over his now rock hard cock, and back around to trail fingertips into the cleft of his ass. “Ash and I haven’t seen each other but once since we all parted ways at HQ. Section 31 keeps him busy and adrift. But we sometimes send letters. More often we send pictures. Videos. He set up an ultra-secure subspace channel just for us. Rewrote the encryption, too, so it is unique to us. Can’t be having half the ‘fleet - or whomever else - knowing _who_ and _how_ the Commander of Section 31 likes to fuck.” Mett chuckled at the effect it was having on Chris. Pupils blown wide and breath heavy, one of the most decorated captains in Starfleet history had turned downright _feral_. This kind of power Mett had no problem wielding, turning his voice dark. “We’ve both talked about you, in our videos.” Chris made a keening noise somewhere in the back of his throat so Mett pressed on. “Do you want to… send him something? From us? Of us?” 

It took a second for the question to sink in - Mett could actually see the moment the neurons connected because Chris’s eyes lit up. Then whiplash quick Chris had pushed them over, Mett pressed hard into the mattress and Chris between his legs. “Hell yes I do.” He growled. “How do you want to do this?” 

This. This was going to be gold. Ash was going to lose his damn mind. “Computer, open encrypted line delta-golf-spap-xmuk-pxkaa-epsilon-tango-victor, ID xlly’a.” Mett called out from his position on the bed, pushing Chris back to sit on his knees.

 _Line open. Record?_ asked the automated voice. 

“Let’s make this a surprise.” Mett ran his fingers up Chris’s thigh. “I am going tell the computer when to zoom out from my face. When it does, I want it to catch you with your face buried between my thighs.” He hooked one knee and then the other over Chris’s shoulders, hips and back lifted off the bed. 

Chris chuckled and dipped his nose experimentally forward, causing Mett to sigh sweetly. “You, my dear, are a genius.” He grabbed the other man’s hipbones and pulled himself forward. “Ready when you are, director.”

Mett pinched his thigh at the tease. “Computer, after I tell you to start recording, keep the visual zoomed in on my face until I stop speaking. Then zoom out and adjust the camera angle to make sure the Captain’s face is clearly visible. Stop recording when the Captain indicates.” Chris arched one eyebrow. “And then send the recording immediately.”

_Settings confirmed._

Chris smirked, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Computer, adjust settings. After I say to stop the recording continue for 5 seconds before cutting visual. Continue audio only for an additional 20 seconds.” It was Mett’s turn to arch an eyebrow. Oh, we are devious now. Oh this was gonna be _fun_.

_Additional settings confirmed._

“Computer, record, audio and visual.” Mett looked straight up to the ceiling, where he knew one of the monitors was located. Only his shoulders were still on the bed, brown hair fanned out beneath him, and Chris had started licking forward, drawing out a thready moan to start the video. “Hey Kiima. I have a - _ah_ \- surprise for you this time. Hope you are sitting down, because this might rock your world almost as much as it does - is - mine.” The wet-muffled moan that came from Chris was nothing less than obscene. Chris pressed forward hungrily and Mett rocked hard into his face with a hissed out, “Yesssss.” They continued like that for a few minutes, until Mett’s thighs began to visibly twitch and he was clawing at the sheets, speech reduced only to vowels.

There was an indecent sucking pop when Chris backed away just enough to look where he was pretty sure the camera had re-adjusted to. “Too bad 31 keeps you so tied up, Tyler. Otherwise, I’d invite you to join us... for dinner.” And then he actually winked into the camera before telling it to cut the recording and diving in once more. Mett laughed, but it broke into a low guttural moan as Chris hoisted Mett’s hips higher and buried his tongue in Mett’s ass.

_Recording complete. Sending now._

Mett leapt off of Chris’s face and climbed up for a sloppy kiss interspersed with breathless laughter. “You are un. Fucking. _Believable_ . Just… you winked?! He is gonna _lose it_. And I mean that in the best way possible. You were the perfect level of smug boyfriend and I love you for it.” He froze and looked at Chris cautiously, realizing what he just said. “I mean- _g_ _ah_ ”

Chris lifted Mett up by the waist mid-sentence, laughing through a goofy smile. “Nuh-uh. No take backsies, you said it first!” He pressed his chin to Mett’s sternum and huffed out another laugh while maintaining eye contact. “I love you, too.” 

“Does that mean you are going to finish what you started?” Mett tugged on his hair with both hands and wrapped his legs around Chris’s waist, squeezing his thighs for good measure.

“Of course.” He loosened his grip and Mett slid down Chris’s chest into his lap. They kissed languidly. “I am not _that_ much of a smug boyfriend as to leave you hanging like that.” He brushed their noses together. “I like the sound of boyfriend, though.”

Mett smiled, feeling suddenly warm and fuzzy. “Yeah?” He ran fingers through Chris’s hair, down his jaw, over his lips, back to the nape of his neck. “I love you, Chris. Have for a long, long while now. I was just so worried that any physical intimacy between us would ruin everything...”

Chris’s gaze turned soft and he lowered them back to the bed. “Never. Ever.” He brushed Mett’s hair back. “I am only sorry I didn’t make my preferences clearer to you sooner. Could have saved you a lot of anxiety, it seems.” He shook his head. 

Mett pulled him into a kiss. “But we’re here now, love.” Another kiss, lazy. “Although don’t you have to be on the bridge soon?”

Chris shook his head again. “I told Una I would be late today. Wanted to make sure we had enough space to drink ourselves under the table, if the occasion called for it.” He chuckled. “Turned out better than I expected, all told.”

Mett outright laughed. “Just a little better.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short interlude featuring Ash's voice and Chris's ass.

_Incoming message for Dr. Zemke. Arrival code llysh'a._

Mett laughed, a little breathless, and turned to Chris, who was fixing his hair and straightening his uniform before heading to the bridge. Gods above and below his ass looked amazing in those pants. “Chris, I can’t believe it, but...that’s Ash. He almost _never_ responds to a message from me that quickly. He must have, uh, something to say?” 

Chris snorted and brushed some sweat-sticky hair from Mett’s forehead. “Computer, bring it up.”

 _Denied. Access code required._

“Remote mtDNA scan protocol alpha-iota.” Mett didn’t look away from his lover who was standing by the edge of the bed. “Computer, ceiling project.”

_Media is audio only. Playing now._

Ash Tyler’s voice boomed around the room, loud, clear, and breathy. “Fuck you very much, Kyamo. Holy shit. I just… I can’t... I’m… And fuck you too, Pike, you absolute bastard.” He groaned and let out a string of curses in Klingon and then coughed to clear his throat. His voice turned monotone and professional. “Given my current position, I will arrive at Starbase 8 in two days, about 26 hours before you.” Pause. “Which is to say, invitation accepted. I will be waiting for you. And I am _starving._ ” 

A beat and then they both burst into hysterical, giddy laughter. “I think that counts as a success?” Mett hiccuped with giggles. “Ash and I have barely ever been in the same quadrant since _Disco_ … what are the chances…” He mused and then fell back onto the bed. They looked at each other for a moment and then both broke into peals of laughter again.

It was a solid five minutes before they completely settled. Chris had dropped to a knee on the floor in hysterics. “Kyamo? Kiima?” Chris asked as he wiped tears from his eyes. “Codenames?”

Mett breathed deep to get his voice back. “Yes, we thought it was that little bit safer. And then they kind of became pet names? We encrypted a lot of our stuff using Cocopah, one of the Yuman languages, almost extinct, related to Mohave, actually. I learned a bit of it from a neighbor growing up who was the daughter of a tribe elder. Kiima literally means ash. The numbers in the encryption tag, our ID names, all Cocopah.” Then he paused and blushed. “Except for Kyamo. That’s… Klingon for beautiful.”

“I approve.” Chris pushed some of Mett’s hair behind an ear again from his place on the floor. “Although, one of the benefits of our current career choices is no need for secrets and code names between you and me like you have with him.” Chris’s smile was soft. “Assuming this isn’t a one-day anomaly… I’d like to not hide this. Not that I am going to make it an official ‘fleet memo or something, but even anyone knowing puts you at risk with the smattering of enemies I make, and…”

Mett felt warmth rise in his chest and pulled Chris into a kiss that was more emotion than finesse. “I can take care of myself. I did make it through the Academy. Higher grade point average than you, if I remember correctly.” Another kiss, soft and sweet. “Better shot, too.” Kiss. “And make enemies? You?”

Chris’s smile was wry. “Captain’s charisma only goes so far. And Starfleet has plenty of enemies that would just love a hostage of my caliber.”

“Think pretty highly of yourself there, don’t you?” 

Chris pinched Mett’s thigh through the thin top sheet for the tease, but turned a little serious. “I am not wrong, Mett.” 

“No. You are not.” Mett sat up in the bed, sheets pooled around his legs. “You might be shocked to learn that I have thought this through.” He put his hand on the side of Chris’s face, felt the freshly shaven skin there. “It’s one of the reasons I never went back to Starfleet, you know.” Chris cocked his head in curiosity, like some bird, and Mett had to chuckle. “Oh yes. They didn’t actually let me resign the first time around. Command told me to take two weeks leave and think about it. And then you and me and Una and Ash and Spock spent all that time together and…” Mett shrugged and Chris’s smile was warm. “You and I clicked immediately, obviously. Ash and I had one night of life-altering sex and then made eyes at one another for five days straight. I had no idea if either would go anywhere, but I was done with the ‘fleet anyway… getting out from under the chain of command so that I could more safely and ethically pursue either of you was just one more reason to throw in my badge.” 

“OK, now I know I am jealous. Life-altering sex?”

Mett swatted at Chris. “Mmm, for me at the time it was. As for right now… you might have recalibrated that a bit.” Mett pulled down on the command yellow jacket and kissed Chris hard then shoved him upright harder. “Now go to work before I have to worry about Una being the biggest threat to my life.”

Chris held his hands up and chuckled. “Alright! Alright! Dinner tonight? After my shift is over?”

“Babe. I am not leaving your quarters until we get to Starbase 8 except to gather all of my crap out of that closet of a guest room near the science labs.” Mett flopped back onto the bed.

“Oh. I see.” Chris looked back, almost opening the door to leave. “You just want me for my posh living arrangements, I get it. I love you, too.”

Mett laughed from his belly. “And for the fine _fine_ ass, too, love. NOW GO CAPTAIN YOUR DAMN SHIP!”

Chris had the audacity to pop one hip out on his way through the door, very clearly showing his best asset off (if Mett was allowed to have an opinion). The door to the Captain’s quarter slid shut barely in time to prevent Mett’s cackles from tumbling out into the hallway.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tryst on Starbase 8: Day One, Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 4800 words in two days? Oh yeah, I am fine. Just fine. *stares in escapism*

As Christopher Pike exited the _USS Enterprise_ onto Starbase 8, Una was already on the floor, taking a PADD from one of the docking bay attendants. “Captain, you’ll need to approve these acquisitions before we can start loading.” Always three steps ahead of him, bless her.

Chris took the list and scrolled through the items. As he approved each one with a swipe he talked through with Una everything that would need to be done over the next two days to get resupplied and ready to head out again. “And while you’ve got the conn, make sure someone is out here to monitor the onboarding of-”

“Captain Pike!” Mett interrupted, jogging up to Chris. He was wearing civilian clothes, his mahogany hair was surprisingly not pulled back, and Chris definitely saw a smudge of dark makeup around those lovely grey eyes. “Thanks again for the trip back. I am sorry I couldn’t have done more on Velusia II, but the data will be useful. As always, don’t hesitate to get in touch if you need help.” 

When Una coughed Chris realized that he had been staring at Mett a beat too long. “Yes. Thank you for your expertise, Dr. Zemke.” He shook Mett’s outstretched hand and nodded once before Mett headed off into the base. He looked back to Una and she had one eyebrow perfectly arched, head cocked to the side, expression bordering on smug. 

“Would it be too bold to say _that took long enough_ , sir?.” 

Chris rolled his eyes and huffed, handing her the PADD with a bit of force and putting his hands on his hips. But he knew he was failing to keep the smile out of his eyes. “Keep it to yourself, Number One, at least for now. It’ll make it into scuttlebutt soon enough.” 

“Of course, sir. If you would like to slow the scuttling of that butt, might I suggest avoiding such obvious mooning in the future?” The laughter behind Una’s voice was equal parts annoying and endearing.

Mooning? Chris leveled his own weaponized arched eyebrow at her and turned to leave. “I’ll be back in 48 hours.” 

  
  
When he exited the turbolift onto deck 17, Chris felt, rather than heard, a dark shadow fall into step just behind him. After about 10 minutes, nearing where Mett’s apartment was, he pulled Ash Tyler aside out of the line of foot traffic and into an alcove. They stared at each other for a moment and then Chris made a gesture at Ash that indicated that he should start talking.

For his part, Ash stepped back further into the shadow of the niche in between the two housing complexes, melding into the strip of darkness as he crossed his arms. He tipped his chin above his wide cowl neck sweater to speak. “Discretion is the better part of valor here. Between our two jobs we make a lot of enemies and…”

Chris held up a hand and shook his head. “I’ve already broached this topic once. Mett can take care of himself. If he thinks it is worth the risk, then I am not going to dictate otherwise to him.” 

Tyler watched him for a moment, expression unreadable, like the good spy he was. “So you are serious about this.”

“I am. I think he is too.” Now it was Chris’s turn to cross his arms. Just what exactly was Tyler trying to get at?

Well apparently Chris wasn’t going to find out because Tyler pushed off from the wall and continued down the walkway. With a huff of annoyance Chris followed behind. This was going to just go swimmingly, if that was his attitude. Repressed sexual attraction aside, Chris had thought that the two of them were over the vast majority of this crap since that time warp shuttle incident. He had thought that this thing with Mett might bring them together, not start putting walls back up. 

After Ash had called Chris out on his shit _and_ they nearly got stuck in a time drift for the rest of eternity, things had cooled between the two of them. A tenuous trust had formed while on the _Discovery_ , something that solidified in the end when Ash had been able to bring the Klingon fleet to that final battle with Control. In the weeks after being interrogated by Command, Ash had been the most removed of the group. Not unfriendly by any means, not at all, but definitely the most likely to be the quiet observer, and that was with Spock amongst them. Chris wondered now how much being given Section 31 had weighed on him. And how much of a release being with Mett in those weeks had been.

Lost in thought, and not quite as long in his stride as the Commander, Chris arrived at the apartment a few minutes later. He used his personal code to open the door just in time to hear a crash of metal and ceramic hitting the floor. Anxiety quickly shifted to arousal, however, as Chris moved further into the space and found Mett sitting on the kitchen countertop, already shirtless, legs spread wide, while Ash apparently tried to extract Mett’s tonsils with his tongue. A copper skillet and the remnants of a ceramic mug were on the floor near Ash’s feet. Mett had a hand up the back of Ash’s thick black sweater and was clearly pulling down on something sturdy that Chris couldn’t see, using the force to pivot and grind his hips forward into Ash's. 

When they parted for air a shockingly long while later, Mett arched into biting kisses on his neck and smiled through a chuckle. “Enjoying the view?” Mett didn't open his eyes but was clearly talking to Chris. Ash paid Chris no mind.

“Apparently I am going to have to be late more often.” Chris leaned against the wall and smirked to himself, content to continue watching. 

Mett hummed and tugged Ash’s sweater up and over his head. Ash had to back up a step to accommodate it and Chris was distracted for a moment by the ripple of muscles along dark forearms and triceps, but then Ash was sharply jerked out of his narrowed field of view and Chris was forced to refocus. And _that_ was when he saw _it_. 

Ash had been pulled back into the circle of Mett’s legs by a fucking _harness_. It must have been what Mett had been holding on to previously.under the sweater - inch-and-a-half wide black leather straps that wrapped around Ash’s shoulders and ribs, met at a large fist-sized silver ring between his shoulder blades, creating an X across his upper back. 

It drew Chris in like he had been hooked on a fishing line and before he knew it he found himself tracing the metal ring, then grabbing it, yanking Ash to bend his knees, arch backwards so that he could look him in the eyes. “You were wearing _this..._ ” Tug for emphasis, and look how limber Ash is. Log that lovely bit of data for later. “...the whole time?” 

Ash laughed, something mischievous. Deep brown eyes met blue head on and Chris could see no evidence of the cautious and almost standoffish attitude from the alcove. If Chris hadn’t had all his blood rush south all at once in that moment he might have spent some time thinking about the change in demeanor, but now clearly wasn’t the time. 

Mett ran his hands over Ash’s chest as it bowed backwards, over the buckle on his sternum, up his arched neck. “Depends on the game, but sometimes it helps to have a little…” Mett slid off the counter to stand and yanked down hard on the front of the harness, causing Ash to come crashing to his knees on the polished metal floor of the kitchenette. “...leverage.”

Chris watched as Ash’s eyes snapped immediately to Mett, expression too carefully schooled to neutrality to be anything but a coverup for the emotions he was actually feeling. Interesting. Chris watched as something nonverbal passed between the two of them and then Mett shifted his weight, letting go of Ash and looking to the Captain. “Hey.” Mett leaned in and kissed Chris soundly. They wrapped their arms around each other and pressed closer, catching Ash’s left shoulder between their thighs. Chris heard Ash sigh and actually lean his weight back against Chris’s leg. 

While Chris didn’t stop licking into Mett’s mouth he was acutely aware of the other man leaning steadily against him. Chris experimentally reached down and slid his fingers into Ash’s hair. It was soft and still pretty long and would be oh so easy to grab in his fist. But Chris resisted that action and instead scratched lightly at his scalp. 

The strangled noise Ash made distracted them both. Mett looked down and chuckled. “Let’s talk terms before this tiger lets himself out of his cage, hm?” Mett carded his fingers through Ash’s beard and Chris was damn sure the sound that came from the spy was a purr. 

Mett walked into the small living area that the kitchenette opened into and Ash rose to follow. What was even more interesting to Chris was that Ash’s whole disposition changed again once he was on his feet, that confident but measured stride back as he moved to sit on the arm of the chair opposite the couch. Chris took the only other seat left, next to Mett on the couch. There was a beat of silence where Chris could not stop staring at Ash in that damned leather harness. Ash clearly was aware of it, too, crossed his arms to emphasize his physique and cause the leather to strain a little. Ash’s smirk widened into a satisfied grin as a ghost of a blush crept across Chris’s cheeks. Damn traitorous blood flow.

“I don’t like stumbling into landmines, so cards on the table now. I prefer a green-yellow-red system… At any time anyone can call for _status_ and the others answer green if everything is good, yellow to slow down, red for full stop and disengage. Alternatively, saying yellow or red in the middle of anything gets the requisite slow or stop response.” Ash nodded seemingly knowingly, Chris nodded because it made sense. “And saying green means encouragement.” Another set of nods. Mett rolled his eyes. “Verbal confirmation, please… I need more talking, folks.”

Chris chuckled. “Yessir, got it.” 

Ash smiled and gave a cheeky, “All green.”

Mett huffed a laugh. “Smartass.” He shifted and pressed into Chris’s side, who looped an arm around his shoulder. “Okay. Avoiding reds are the goal. What’s already our non-starters? Kiima, I already know yours, but…” Mett tilted his head to Chris.

Ash made eye contact with Chris, not a hint of embarrassment at the topic of discussion. “I don’t like being ridden. Non-sexual bodily excretions - feces, urine, vomit, etc. - are a hard pass. Well, except blood, in the right context. Oh, and that doesn’t apply to incidental encounters, like during rimming or whatever.”

“Completely agree with you on those last ones.” Chris looked from Ash to Mett, paused a moment to think. “I haven’t tried it since, well…” Chris shook his head, now wasn’t the time to get into it. “I am guessing any role playing wouldn’t go very well for me. Keep it grounded in reality.”

Mett looked curious, but didn’t ask, just squeezed Chris’s knee and then left his hand there. “You got it, love.” Chris’s eyes slid to Ash to look for any reaction to that endearment, saw nothing before Mett continued. “Extreme humiliation and cuckolding are my no-nos. No shame, full enthusiastic consent at all times from all parties, please.” 

Chris put his hand on top of Mett’s, interlaced their fingers. “Roger that.”

Ash actually came over, squatted in front of Mett and Chris, and put his hand over theirs. He looked from Mett to Chris, stayed there. “Understood.” 

Warmth spread through Chris as the carefully serious and considerate expression on Ash’s face. Such a strong contrast from before. What was going on behind those dark eyes? He tentatively brought up a hand to the side of Ash’s face. Chris kept his voice hushed. “Can I kiss you, Ash?”

Ash answered by surging up, putting a knee on the couch next to Chris, cupping his face with both hands, and kissing him with enthusiasm. “Yes.” Ash huffed a relieved laugh when they parted, staying close.

Mett giggled. “Well, that’s my new favorite kink, thank you very much.” Chris and Ash both looked to Mett and saw him beaming. Chris couldn’t help but chuckle at the flat out joy in his expression. “Speaking of kinks, Kiima and I have, in the past, gotten pretty, uh, _rough_ with our play.” Mett looked from Ash to Chris. “That okay with you, Chris?” 

“ _To_ me? By me? Yes. Very okay. But I've never been in a situation where I was _watching_ such happen to someone I loved,” Chris once again watched Ash out of the corner of his eye for a reaction but got none. “...as opposed to participating, but I don’t foresee it being an issue.” 

“Well then, Captain,” Mett pushed himself between his two lovers and into Chris’s lap. Chris’s hands immediately went to Mett’s hips and he leaned back to enjoy the view of two lovely shirtless people in front of him. “I do think you are officially overdressed.” 

Mett started unzipping the uniform jacket and pushing it over Chris’s shoulders when he was pulled back with a gasp. Ash had a fist tight in Mett’s hair and sucked hard on his neck for a moment, leaving the start of a bruise when he moved away. “Supplies in the bedroom, Kyamo?” 

Mett nodded as much as he could. “Yeah. Water, too.” Ash let go and headed off behind the partition behind the couch and out of Chris’s field of view. 

Mett continued to remove Chris’s uniform, pulling off his shirt after the jacket, then sliding down to his knees to take off the Starfleet regulation boots. The view of Mett on his knees between Chris’s legs caused a lovely wave of arousal to wash over him and he slouched, sliding his hips towards Mett. Mett moved in now that Chris’s boots were off, draping his arms over Chris’s thighs and nuzzling his still-confined cock. Chris hummed his approval and slid both hands into Mett’s hair while his pants were removed, leaving him now the least dressed in the room. 

Chris moaned and fisted both hands in Mett’s hair, encouraging, but not pushing or pulling, as that talented mouth slowly started to suck his hardening cock. Mett looked up and they locked eyes for a moment before Mett’s eyes focused up over Chris’s shoulder. 

Chris didn’t have time to follow Mett’s line of sight because his head was suddenly and harshly pulled back by his hair. Chris’s shout of surprise at the manhandling was swallowed by Ash’s hungry mouth and Chris arched his back, shoving his cock deep down Mett’s waiting and willing throat. 

Ash pulled away from the kiss but kept a hand in Chris’s hair. He leaned in to whisper. “Don’t know if you know this yet, but the best moans happen when you fuck his face.” Chris moaned and Ash nipped at his ear. “So don’t hold back, _Yatkap_.” From his place on his knees Mett whined and sucked harder.

Chris had enough brainpower left to note the Klingon-sounding word for later, but physically surrendered to another of Ash’s fierce kisses in the moment. He did, however, heed his new lover’s advice and experimentally snapped his hips forward while holding Mett’s head in place. 

Holy _fuck._ The guttural moan from Mett traveled like electricity up his spine and he broke away from Ash’s mouth with a string of curses. Ash chuckled and nuzzled Chris’s temple. “Told you.” Ash ran a hand down Chris’s exposed neck and back up to cup his jaw. “Keep going, Yatkap’ich. _Harder._ ” The hint of command in Ash’s voice made Chris a little dizzy.

Ash moved around the couch to behind Mett on the floor, keeping eye contact with Chris the whole time. It was only when Ash dropped to his knees and grabbed Mett’s hips that he realized that the Commander had lost the rest of his clothes somewhere along the way. All he was wearing was that damned harness. “Status, Kyamo.” Ash murmured, rubbing a hand up Mett’s back, brushing Chris’s fingers where they tangled in long brown hair.

Mett pulled back and Chris’s cock fell from his lips with a pop. “Fuck you, you know its green.” Mett got out the words between reflexively gulping huge lungfuls of air. “Greengreengreen.” Mett’s hands were already at his own waistband, helping Ash peel the sweat-sticky garments off. 

Ash full out laughed and tossed the pants and underwear aside. “Yes, but one, I wanted him to hear it.” Mett actually growled in frustration into Chris’s thigh and Chris’s hips twitched upwards in sympathy. “And two,” Ash leaned over for emphasis as he grabbed Mett’s hips, pulled them backwards, and kneed his legs apart. “You are going to need the oxygen.”

Chris met Ash’s eyes and then looked down just in time to see Ash’s thick, heavy dick slide into Mett in one long easy stroke. Both Mett and Ash moaned together and Chris fucking _felt_ his own pupils dilate further. Coherent thought gone, and clearly given the go-ahead, Chris grabbed Mett’s jaw and pushed himself past swollen red lips and back into that perfect throat. 

Mett made a high pitched keening noise and turned his eyes to Chris. They were barely in focus, but Chris only saw bliss there. He smiled, stroking Mett’s cheek, just about to move his own hips, but before he could, Mett was driven forward into Chris _hard._ The air was punched out of Chris’s lungs with the force of it and he turned his attention to Ash to find one hell of a shit-eating grin on his face. 

Chris raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Challenge accepted, Commander.” And then he gripped the edge of the couch and thrust upwards with enough force to knock Mett backwards onto Ash’s cock. Ash gasped and held tight to Mett’s hips, fingers clearly leaving deep imprints in his skin. Mett, for his part, let out a rumbling moan that Chris felt rattle his ribcage. 

Game. On.

While Chris wanted to watch the man he loved get fucking _plowed_ , he couldn’t pry his eyes away from Ash’s, and molten brown eyes held his as they found a rapid and punishing rhythm together. Chris could see out of his peripheral vision that Ash had a hand curved around Mett’s hip and, based on the tempo of the garbled moans reverberating through his own cock, was stroking Mett’s clit in time with Chris’s thrusts. With a deep groan and a shudder Mett orgasmed between them, nails raking red tracks down the underside of Chris’s thighs.

Without missing a beat, Ash reached out with his other hand towards Chris, snapped his fingers and pointed to Chris’s right. “Lube. I dropped it on the couch.” It must have happened when Ash had pulled Chris into one of those biting kisses, so it took Chris a second to find the bottle and move to hand it over. Ash shook his head and sped up the movement of his occupied hand, causing Mett to keen and Chris’s eyes to flutter shut with the wave of sensation. “On my fingers, now.” Chris’s eyes snapped open and he was obeying before he could question the command. Once liberally coated, Ash took his hand back and met Chris’s eyes. “Time for both of you to come. Watch this.”

Chris followed the motion of Ash’s lubricated fingers to Mett’s ass and moaned in anticipation, his hips stuttering in their rhythm. “ _Yes_ , _Ash_.” he hissed. 

Ash inhaled sharply at the words and sped up his hand on Mett’s clit, who squeaked and deep throated Chris further. Then Chris watched in awe as Ash slid a lubed up finger into Mett’s asshole without any preamble.

Mett fucking _screamed_ around Chris’s cock and started frantically sucking and swallowing as he sobbed through another orgasm. And with that image, Mett coming for a second time in a handful of minutes, mouth wide around Chris’s cock as Ash filled him out like a damn application, well... Chris was coming hard, body curled over and around Mett’s head, holding it in place as he emptied himself with a shaking moan. 

Chris didn’t understand a word of the Klingon that Ash was murmuring other than a few repeated whispers of _Kyamo_ as Ash lifted a boneless Mett away from Chris and against his broad chest. Mett’s head lolled back onto his shoulder and Ash gasped into his neck as he thrust a few more times and came with a breathy groan. Even through his post-coital haze Chris could recognize how beautiful the two of them looked together. It caused a sharp spike of _want_ to course through his stomach and his cock to twitch in interest.

Slipping to his knees, Chris pressed up against Mett, cupping his face and bringing him into a kiss. Chris swallowed the gasp Mett made as Ash slipped out of him. Chris hummed as a hand too large to be Mett’s slid into his hair, scratched his scalp. He opened his eyes while still lazily kissing Mett and saw Ash watching them closely, eyes dark and hooded.

Ash shifted Mett’s weight onto Chris and stood, going to the kitchen sink to wash his hands and still half-hard cock, then returning with a damp dish towel. He spread Mett’s legs, cleaning his vulva, then the fluids that were dripping down his thighs, then his ass. Mett had curled his shoulders into Chris’s chest and was watching Ash with a small smile. Ash kissed Mett’s cheek and then shifted to the unused end of the dish towel and reached in and wiped off Chris’s softened cock. 

Chris gasped at the attention and looked to Ash, who was clearly observing him for a reaction. So Chris reached out and pulled Ash into a soft kiss. Ash sighed, a quiet sweet sound that Chris sure wasn’t going to forget any time soon. 

The giggle Mett let out pulled them apart and Chris smiled. “Welcome back.”

“Happy to be here.” Mett ran a hand over Chris’s jaw and then into Ash’s hair, voice rough around a sore throat. “While I’d love to bask in the afterglow of getting thoroughly fucked by my two favorite people, I have a nagging anxiety about time. The _Enterprise_ is docked for two days, yes?” Chris nodded. “Kiima?”

“I am going to have to pop out and run an errand on base in…” He looked up to the chrono. “...four hours. After that, I am not sure. Depends on the reports. With a bit of luck I might have three days.”

Mett sat up straight in Chris's lap, clearly delighted. “Three _days_?”

Chris chuckled and ran a hand up Ash’s thigh, landing on his hip. “How’d you swing that one?”

Ash shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve spent four years earning Starfleet’s trust enough to run more and more of my own game without checking in every other nanosecond. I was able to convince Command that now would be an excellent opportunity to see how the Section could function with me going hands off for a short while. An important test if something actually happens to me.” Ash smirked. “They don’t need to know _why_ right _now_ is such a good time…” 

Mett stretched with a happy sigh and leaned from Chris into Ash. “That is fucking fantastic, Kiima.” Ash’s arms found their way around Mett’s waist, his fingers absently reaching out to stroke Chris’s abdomen. “Okay team, excellent start.” Chris barked a laugh and got a glare for his interruption. “Let’s refuel and hydrate and then see if we can do better next time, eh?”

Ash’s rich laughter filled the room. “And here I thought you might be sated for a moment, Kyamo.” He shook his head in disbelief.

Chris hummed, amused at both the twinkle in Mett’s eyes and something that bordered on adoration in Ash’s. Whether he knew it or not, Ash had it _bad_ for Mett, which actually explained a whole lot to Chris about their interactions over the past few hours. And Chris wasn’t yet sure exactly where he stood, but at least it wasn’t still back in that alcove.

Mett stood and stretched again. Chris reached out and Mett skittered away towards the replicator before he could smack his ass. Mett stuck out his tongue at Chris and kept walking.

“Don’t stick anything out at me that you don’t want me to suck.” Chris teased. He couldn’t see Mett’s face as he punched some things into the replicator, but Chris could tell he rolled his eyes anyway.

Ash chuckled. “That isn’t going to be a deterrent.” 

Chris stood, groaning a little when his knee popped and he sat on the couch. He watched as Ash joined him, sliding down so his head rested on the back of the couch, eyes closed and his long legs stretched out in front of him. Lord, he was sexy, particularly when he wasn’t trying. Chris pitched his voice low. “It wasn’t supposed to be a deterrent... Kiima.” Ash froze and his eyes shot open. “Can I call you that?”

Ash tilted his head and made deliberate eye contact with Chris, assessing him. “Say it again.” His voice was very very quiet. 

Chris turned towards him. “Kiima.” Ash’s nostrils flared as he took in a sharp inhale, so Chris tried it again, adding a little breathiness to it, leaning closer. “Kiima.” He heard Mett’s footsteps head off in the direction of the bathroom so continued keeping his attention on Ash.

“Yeah.” Ash swallowed hard, kept watching Chris, expression still searching. “Yeah, you can call me that.” 

Chris couldn’t stop the wide smile that split his face. “Great.” His hand ran up and down Ash’s forearm. “You can call me Chris, you know. Or… what was that you said… yacht…?”

Ash turned the most delightful shade of red as he blushed all the way down to his collarbone. “Shit, I…” His eyes were wide. “It is Klingon, sorry, I didn’t mean, it just, I was…”

Chris interrupted, fascinated by this caught-in-the-headlights version of Ash. “What does it mean, Kiima?”

The nickname seemed to snap Ash out of it. “Yatkap is, uh, a... bird. It’s... grey,” Ash’s eyes darted up to Chris’s hair and back. “And it can stay in flight for days and days without landing. And ‘ich, well, you add descriptives to the end of words in Klingon... that’s part of the grammar... and so-”

“Handsome.” Mett leaned over with a hand on Chris’s shoulder. “It means handsome. Or beautiful. So yatkap’ich is ‘handsome bird.’” 

Ash turned a darker shade of red and it spread down to the straps of the harness. Clearly he felt he had been caught at something and kind of looked like he wanted to sink through the couch into the floor. Chris just smiled. “I’m flattered.” And he was. Ash and he had a complicated history, so that Ash had gotten to that place in his own head was a good sign about the future. Chris decided to have mercy and change the subject. “You are much more comfortable with speaking Klingon than I remember?”

Ash sighed with relief. “Yeah. It’s been… a work in progress. I still think in it about half the time, maybe more. It is easy to switch into it when there are other Klingons around, but with just humans it has been hard to just… be me.”

“Then I am even more flattered.” Chris interlaced their fingers. “Besides, I am hoping maybe I get a cool codename too when I have to leave?” He glanced up to Mett, who was sitting on the arm of the couch and leaning into Chris’s shoulder. 

“Hmmm,” Mett hummed in exaggerated consideration then leaned in. “Only if you are a Very. Good. Boy.” Chris swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, and Mett popped up, predatory whisper gone. “Food’s up!”

Mett walked towards the kitchen peninsula he had so recently been sitting upon, which was now home to plates of food, a basket of bread, and glasses of wine. Chris also noticed that somewhere Mett had put on a pair of panties, black and lace. _Whew_. Ash pulled his own briefs out from somewhere behind the couch and quickly slid them on before leaning in close to Chris’s ear. “Come on, Chris, let’s eat. You are gonna be happy for that extra protein when you’re coming from being railed by my dick for the third time tomorrow morning.” Then Ash patted Chris on the shoulder, totally casual, and headed towards the food, taking the stool next to Mett. 

Chris just blinked at them, stunned into paralysis as his now two lovers started chit-chatting about nothing in particular, drinking wine and mostly naked. 

What sweet insanity had he just signed himself up for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I think you broke the Captain... What did you say to him, Kiima?"
> 
> "I just showed concern over his nutritional intake."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tryst on Starbase 8: Day One, Part Two
> 
> (or the one where Ash catches some feels)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything in [square brackets] indicates speech in Klingon that I didn't want to try to translate. 
> 
> Just to review the Klingon we've learned so far...  
> kyamo = beautiful (source: DS9 episode "Blood Oath")  
> yatkap (yatqap) = gray bird that can travel long distances without stopping (source: The Klingon Dictionary by Mark Okrand)  
> 'ich ('IH) = descriptive that can be added to a noun meaning handsome (source: The Klingon Dictionary by Mark Okrand)
> 
> New Klingon for this chapter...  
> ma' = our, in reference to beings that possess language, added as a suffix to other words (source: Klingon Pocket Dictionary by Klingonska Akademien)
> 
> The difference in the words in parentheses above is the difference between the romanization of a Klingon word and its Standard pronunciation. For example, the Klingon homeworld is romanized as Qo'noS and that is pronounced pretty much as Kronos. so that would be Kronos (Qo'noS).
> 
> /wiki entry

“Well, while our intrepid Captain collects himself.” Mett peered over Ash’s shoulder and saw Chris slowly coming out of the daze he had been left in on the couch. “I do have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?” Ash loaded his plate up, started dipping the flatbread into the sauce.

“Chris reminded me of it.” Mett looked almost bashful. “[I have been taking some language classes _._ ]” 

Ash gasped. _Klingon_. Mett was learning - had learned - Klingon. For him. He felt something flutter in his stomach. Did Mett have any idea what he did to Ash? How he made him feel? And now this. Fucking hell. “[That’s pretty impressive, Kyamo.]” He kept his voice low. “[When did you start?]”

“[Fourteen months ago? Maybe a little longer? I thought of the idea like two years ago, but it was hard to find someone to teach it in between my work commitments, particularly at the fluency I wanted.]” Mett’s eyes were looking past Ash, tracking Chris as he finally approached the peninsula and sat down on Ash’s other side. 

Ash turned so that his back wasn’t to Chris. “[Does the Captain know any?]”

Chris blinked as Mett answered with a soft laugh. “[I don’t think so, although I bet he would learn for you.]” Ash felt himself blush a little at the implication that Chris seemed to care about him enough for that. 

“Wait, when did you learn Klingon?” Chris looked a little put out at Mett, just for a moment, then seemed to settle into a smile when he looked at Ash. 

That was when Ash had the realization that he himself was grinning stupidly, which must have been what changed Chris's expression. “Don’t worry. We’ll only use it to talk about you when you are in the room.” He nudged Chris with his elbow, trying to convey that he was kidding.

Chris rolled his eyes and tucked in to his own plate of food. “Oh, then it’s okay then.” He hummed around a mouthful of food. “Mett, this is a damn good approximation of that curry place near the Academy. Send me the recipe so I can put it into the _Enterprise_ ’s systems?”

Mett puffed a little proudly. “You mean so Una can put it into the _Enterprise_ ’s systems?” Chris waved his hand in a motion to indicate _whatever_ and kept eating. 

Ash sat back and watched Chris. His hair was ruffled and his face still had just a little flush from their exertions, or from Ash’s parting comment. Either way, he looked relaxed and happy. It was a good look on him. “Are you always this mellow away from your ship?” 

Chris barked a laugh. “That’s the sex, not the location.” His eyes moved from Ash to Mett. “But remember that you only really saw me on _Disco_ , which, while an excellent crew that became family, it wasn’t home the way _Enterprise_ is. And with all the red angel adventures, I don’t know that I really had time to relax.”

“And you weren’t getting laid.” Mett smirked around a mouthful of food. 

“And I wasn’t getting laid.” Chris conceded, smiling at Mett. “Although if I had known, I had moved an excellent couch into that ready room…” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at Mett and Ash laughed at their rapport. 

Mett giggled. “You didn’t even know I existed. And neither did you.” Ash felt Mett poke him in the side with a finger. “I was way too far down on the ladder to merit any attention from the likes of you all, especially during a crisis. Which I guess means that dumb luck got us here?” Ash didn’t believe in Fate or a deity or whatever, not after everything he had been through, but it felt like a little more than luck. Or maybe that was just because it felt significant, Ash had trouble telling the difference. Did it even make a difference? 

“I am not used to thinking of myself as lucky.” Ash said, softly, eyes on Mett, but he felt Chris grab his hand in response, give it a squeeze. “At least not with things like this.” Ash accepted Mett’s gentle curry-flavored kiss.

The last time Ash had ventured this far into a relationship his partner had left to save the galaxy by launching herself 900 years into the future. He felt he had good reason to keep his feelings close to his chest. It was why he had avoided Mett so often in these past four years. He knew that if they spent more time together Ash was going to just dig his own grave faster. It seemed inevitable, that they were too far inside each other’s gravity to not collide eventually, but at least he thought he had slowed the progression. 

But _now?_ Chris and Mett’s mischievous and perfectly pornographic video had lit something deep in Ash. He _wanted_. And not just in the casual friends-with-benefits way that Mett and he had discussed at length. Well, now that he thought of it, maybe that Ash himself had insisted on. Damn. 

Not that he wasn’t happy for Mett and Chris. Far from it. He knew how Mett felt about Chris, how close they were - are - what Mett wants from that relationship. Not every missive Ash and Mett sent to one another was for the sex, just most of it. Watching the other two together actually felt good, much to Ash’s surprise. He had really expected to feel possessive and jealous, at least that would have been what he expected everything of Voq left in him (of which there was not an insubstantial amount) to want. Singular possession. Claim what was his to the exclusion of all others. Domination. 

But then he had been on his knees between Mett and Chris and… nothing. None of that. The thrum of excited anticipation in his veins. The warmth of lust coiling in his belly. A yearning to explore new connections. But to be a tyrant? No. Not here. Not in this space between these two people.

Ash had sagged in relief, suddenly allowed to relax in this new open space around him, ending up pressed against Chris’s leg, and it all clicked. Every interaction he had with Captain Christopher Pike stampeded through his memory all at once, an avalanche of intense emotions (always intense, never mild) that all lead to this single point in time. As if there wasn’t any other way this could have gone.

And Mett - his _Kyamo_ \- after so many years apart had just melted into him. Getting Mett alone for those first few minutes before Chris arrived, to be able to reconnect, just them, after _two and a half years,_ was awesome, in the most original meaning of the word. Ash had felt something he only had dim recollections of knowing previously… he felt _home_.

Ash blinked himself out of his memories and focused on Mett who was watching him curiously. “What were _you_ thinking about, Kiima?” Mett waggled his eyebrows in a fair imitation of Chris. Ash noticed that Mett’s plate was almost empty and a glance to the other side saw Chris finishing up as well.

He decided to go with cautiously honest. “You.” Mett blushed a lovely shade of pink while Chris chuckled. 

“Good answer.” Chris patted him on the shoulder. Ash put a hand on Chris’s knee and used it as an anchor to turn towards Chris. 

“You too.” Ash smiled at the startled look on Chris’s face. He moved his hand up to Chris’s cheek. “[I can’t wait to take you apart so that our Kyamo can put you back together.]”

Mett draped himself over Ash’s back, chin on his shoulder and arms wrapped around to play with his chest hair near and under the leather harness. Mett hummed in appreciation but didn’t offer a translation. 

Chris looked back and forth between them, eyebrows raised. “Wanna loop me in?”

Mett nudged Ash, “[Your words, your call, Kiima.]”

Ash pulled Chris closer by the neck so that Mett wasn’t dislodged from his shoulders. “I said,” Ash purposefully pitched his voice lower into Chris’s ear. “That I can’t wait to take you apart…” Chris gasped. “...so that Mett can put you back together.” If Mett noticed the translation difference he didn’t comment on it.

Chris turned his face into Ash’s neck, “Fuck.” His breath was heavy and rolled over Ash’s skin in rapid rhythmic puffs. 

“I think it is time for dessert.” Mett slid like water down Ash’s back and then over to stand by Chris’s side. “Come on, love.” He tugged on Chris’s bicep. 

They tumbled into the bedroom, Ash following close behind. Mett climbed up to the headboard, sat with his back against it, pulled Chris in between his legs. When Chris went for Mett’s panties he _tsk_ ed and turned him around, pulling Chris’s back against his chest, Chris’s head on his shoulder, his arms around Chris’s ribs.

Ash stepped up to the foot of the bed, admired the view for a moment, Starfleet’s Golden Boy on display for him, cock already straining in the confines of his undergarments, and then slipped off his own briefs. Mett had Chris distracted, neck craned so that they could kiss, but the angle was awkward, leaving gaps where Ash could see their tongues mingling. Good spies never resist an opportune moment, a voice in his head whispered, so Ash crawled forward, licking into one of those gaps.

Mett arched with a moan at the surprise intrusion and it pushed Chris into Ash, triggering a chain reaction groan and pulling them apart. Ash leaned in again and kissed Mett while he moved to pull off Chris’s boxers. Chris leaned in to kiss Ash’s neck, bit there when he lifted his hips to help remove the only clothing separating them. 

Ash sat back on his knees to drop the boxers to the floor and run his hands along Chris’s legs. He purposefully met Mett’s eyes and was, not for the first time, a little awed as he seemed able to convey his exact thoughts to the other man. Or maybe he was just that much of an open book in front of Mett. 

“Your turn, my love.” Mett whispered in Chris’s ear. “Remember, I am here to catch you.” Chris whined in response while Mett slid one shin under the small of Chris’s back, lifting the Captain’s hips slightly.

“Christ, Ash.” Chris groaned as Ash dropped to his stomach, kissing the inside of Chris’s thighs. Then he hitched one of Chris’s legs over Mett’s left knee, opening him up. “ _Kiima._ ” Chris breathed, threading one hand into Ash’s hair. Ash hummed his approval. 

“[Kyamo, you get the top, I’ll get the bottom?]” Ash asked before he licked a stripe up the underside of Chris’s leaking cock. 

With a chuckle Mett reached down to take Chris in hand and Ash dove lower, lower, lower, until he could press the flat of his tongue to Chris’s waiting hole. 

Chris bucked upwards _hard_ with a shout and Mett clamped down tightly around the base of his cock, other hand on his hip. “Whoa there cowboy.” Mett kissed Chris’s neck. “You got a long loooong way to go, yatkap’ich. Our sweet Commander here has three hours before work beckons him.” Mett nipped Chris's shoulder. “Let’s see if we can’t make you beg for it, eh?”

Mett’s hand slid from hip to Chris’s left thigh, the one that wasn’t hitched over Mett’s knee, and held his legs apart, giving Ash even better access. Ash pulled away from Chris for a moment to kiss Mett’s hand. “Always so helpful, Kyamo.” Mett chuckled while Chris keened in frustration.

Ash got back to work. He loved the different ways he could make someone fall apart with his mouth. Enthusiasm had led to experience had led to a very specific set of well-honed skills. Ash knew, with the confidence of a lot of carefully planned anonymous hook-ups testing some of the Section’s most advanced disguise tech, that he was fucking _good_ at this. 

This fact was beginning to dawn on Chris because he was now whispering strings of nonsense into the hinge of Mett’s jaw, of which Ash was only catching random words: _fuck, Ash, good, christ, more, can’t, harder, yes, Kiima._ Given that Ash could still make out actual words, well… there was room for improvement there.

Mett’s hand was running lazy loose strokes along Chris’s dick, a solid tease but most certainly not enough to get him off. Excellent. Ash curled his tongue as he pulled it out of Chris’s hole and crawled upwards to nuzzle his chin, brushed their noses together to get Chris to open his eyes and focus on Ash. 

“Hey,” Ash whispered. “Gotta get you ready for me so I don’t hurt you. Gonna take four fingers…” Chris inhaled sharply, eyes widened. “You been stretched like that before, Yatkap’ich?” 

“Fuck.” Chris whispered, closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed before looking back to Ash. “Not since the Academy, no.” 

“Status, love?” Mett pressed his lips to the nape Chris’s neck, not quite a kiss, just a presence. 

Chris swallowed again. “Oh, green. Very green. Just... “ He smiled a little sheepishly. “... overwhelmed?”

Ash hummed, kissed Chris, spoke against his lips. “Well, given that you can still form coherent words…” Another kiss. “I would say you aren’t overwhelmed enough.” 

Mett huffed a laugh at Chris’s drawn out moan. “Kiima…” He fake-scolded. “Be nice.”

Ash kissed Mett with deep pushes of his tongue before settling downwards once more. “I _am_ nice.” Kiss to Chris’s hip. “ _Very_ nice.” Kiss to his balls. “ _Too nice_.” Ash sucked hard on the tip of Chris’s dick and the moan Chris let out sounded like he had been punched in the sternum. 

Ash chuckled a little as he got off the bed and went to the bedside table, opened the second drawer, and pulled out the second bottle of lube that he had already clocked was there earlier in the evening. But one toy was missing from the carefully organized trays in the drawer. Agents were trained to notice the smallest details with even with the shortest of glances and Ash really couldn’t turn it off. That being said, sometimes it was an advantage.

“Meeeeett…” He drew the name out. “Where is the-”

“Shhh!!” Mett emphatically cut him off. “It is a surprise! You don’t need it right now, do you?”

Ash arched an eyebrow, a thrill of anticipation vibrating through him. “No. But I will later.” Mett smirked in response and changed his movements on Chris’s cock to something much more stimulating, but didn’t offer further answers. “Okay, keep your secrets, Kyamo.”

Moving back between Chris’s legs, Ash resumed using his mouth, keeping his tongue stiff as he penetrated Chris repeatedly, waiting until Chris lost enough control and coherence to start to grinding down on his face. Hells yes. He sucked hard on the rim, scrape of teeth, sucked again and nodded to rub his beard along sensitized skin. 

Chris let out a sob of a moan as Mett once again gripped the base of his penis hard enough to stop the rise of an orgasm. As soon as Chris had settled, breathing evenly slightly, Ash coated his finger with lube and started pushing inside Chris. 

_Fucking hell_. The _sounds_ Chris made. Ash wanted to wrap himself up in those sounds. Get lost in them for a lazy morning of sex and sloppy kisses. Mett wasn’t unaffected either, panting into Chris’s shoulder and eyes looking glazed. 

Chris’s head was thrown back over Mett’s shoulder, his eyes closed, but Ash got up and pulled him into a kiss. When they parted Chris opened his eyes to look at Ash, pupils blown to shit, just as Ash fully sheathed one finger. Ash moved in and out once, twice, three times, keeping his gaze locked to Chris’s. Without looking away, Ash managed to grab the lube, thumb it open, and squeeze more onto his hand. “More?” He asked against Chris’s lips.

“Yeah,” Chris sighed, ground down his hips once, making Ash’s eyes widen a little. “All green.”

The moan Chris let out with the addition of a second finger sounded _relieved_ and Ash swallowed it greedily, licking the remnants of it out of Chris’s mouth. He moved his fingers in and out a few times, scissored them, and Chris turned his head back into Mett’s neck and jaw. 

“Hit it.” Came a low growl from Mett. “Now, Kiima.” His voice was suddenly edged with command and Ash felt the hot-cold rush of arousal wash down his spine.

Ash had made passing glances at it, just to determine exactly where it was, but now he rammed his fingers into Chris’s prostate hard, crooking them on the way out. Chris’s entire body tightened as he groaned and pressed his hips down, not letting Ash pull out quite as quickly. There we go. Lovely progress. More of those thrusts, a few twists, and then Ash had three fingers buried deep. 

Chris had no words now, was pretty much fucking himself on Ash’s hand as his ongoing moans ebbed and flowed. He looked so stunningly gorgeous that Ash felt a little light-headed watching him. Mett was reading Chris like a book, though, and clamped down again, denying Chris another orgasm and finally pulling out and whisper-sobbed “ _Pleeease_ ” from their lovely Captain.

“Almost there, almost. You’re doing so well.” Ash murmured, petting Chris’s jaw, his chest, his thigh. “Let me help with this last one.” Ash looked to Mett. “[Let him come this time, he deserves a little mercy. Besides, I want to see if I can get him hard again riding my cock.]”

Mett outright laughed and Chris’s brow furrowed. Ash didn’t let him have time to voice any concerns though as he took Chris’s cock in his mouth. Chris’s hands flew to Ash’s hair, gripping tight, but not controlling, while Mett’s hand moved to cup Ash’s jaw for a moment.

A few long, distracting, and relaxing sucks plus some more lube and Ash was able to get a fourth finger inside Chris. He hummed his approval into Chris’s cock and took him further into his throat. Ash ran a hand over Chris’s thigh in heavy encouraging pets. He was doing so well. 

Then Chris snapped his hips down onto Ash’s hand _hard_ , driving everything up to the base of Ash’s thumb into his body. Ash’s eyes rolled back as he groaned. Nine hells, he was almost fisting Chris. Now _that_ was an item to explore another day.

“There you are, lover.” Mett started talking into Chris’s ear, scratching nails through his chest hair, catching his nipples. “Come now, love, let go. Come. Come for me.”

And to Ash’s absolute fucking thrill, Chris did, mouth open on a silent moan, almost as if in shock that those words were what had pushed him over the edge. Ash swallowed it all, eyes up on Chris, and kept sucking until Chris stilled. Or, well, at least wasn’t shaking as violently anymore.

Ash backed off, both his hand and his lips, and Chris whined softly at the loss. But then his whine turned into a self-deprecating laugh. “What have you two done to me?” He kissed Mett’s neck.

“Oh, we’re not done yet.” Ash kept his voice low as he lubed up his own dick and pressed the head to Chris’s wide open hole. 

Chris’s head snapped up to look at Ash, eyes traveling from Ash’s face all the way down to where his thick cock nudged Chris’s body. “Fuck. Yellow. Slowly, Ash, slowly. Fuck, Mett, he’s… how did you even take…”

Mett laughed into Chris’s hair. “Vaginas have many benefits. But also, like I said before, I want Kiima to be rough with me.” He hugged his arms around Chris’s ribs. “But not required for your first time. He’ll keep it nice and easy if you want.” Mett dropped the pitch of his voice. “Although I do hope he can get you hard again just from his cock.”

“Jesus Christ, do you think I am sixteen agai- _UNF_ ” Ash interrupted Chris by pressing forward, the tip of him sinking into Chris’s body.

“I got you, Yatkap’ich.” Ash soothed, pushed forward again, and both he and Chris groaned in tandem. Ash gritted his teeth as the head settled inside, concentrating on trying to hold himself back from just plowing into the Captain. He rubbed Chris’s thighs as a distraction, focusing on the feel of strong muscles stretched out under his hands. Ash slowly sank himself inside Chris, inch by excruciating inch, savoring the differences between the ass he was enjoying now and his earlier romp in Mett’s pussy. He loved it all, wanted it all, and once he couldn’t lose himself any more into the man beneath him, Ash realized that he fucking _had it all_. A little dizzy with emotion, Ash leaned over and kissed Chris. “Chris, status.”

Chris experimentally shifted his hips and let out a quiet gasp. “Oh fuck. So full.” He seemed to forget the question for a moment. “Green, I think. Yeah. Green.” Ash pulled out a little, pushed back in. “ _Yesyesgreengreengreen._ ” Chris was back to panting into Mett’s neck.

Mett shifted his leg slightly, the one under Chris’s hips, changing their angle as Ash pulled almost all the way out. He sank back in, a little harder than expected because Chris was so open for him. 

Chris arched, moaned, and chuckled almost ruefully. “Fucking hell. I think you hit my goddamn lungs.” A pause and suddenly Chris’s eyes were on Ash and lit with pure fire. “Do it again.”

Ash was pretty sure he blacked out for a moment because next thing he knew he was ramming into Chris, sweaty and growling. So much for nice and easy. Not that Chris seemed to mind because he had braced himself on Mett’s thighs and was slamming back into Ash with each thrust. Ash couldn’t hear what Mett was whispering in Chris’s ear over the sounds of skin slapping against skin, but Chris was getting out syllables in short bursts as he rocked back against Mett and then levered himself forward onto Ash. 

And then Mett was moving, a pillow under Chris’s hips, carefully lowering Chris’s shoulders to the bed, leaning over to kiss Chris properly while fingers carded through gray hair. Ash continued his deep thrusts despite Chris losing his leverage and enjoyed hearing him moan into Mett’s mouth. Given Chris’s shift into whimpering Ash was pretty sure he had found the perfect angle. Then Chris’s cock started to twitch in interest and well, that answered that question.

Mett straddled Chris’s chest, facing Ash, and ran light fingers over Chris’s slowly hardening cock. It actually twitched into Mett’s hand and Chris let out a string of curses and grabbed Mett’s hips.

Ash wrapped an arm around Mett, brought their chests together for a sloppy kiss. Mett grabbed the harness and pressed them even closer together. The kiss continued long after Ash really needed air and between the oxygen deprivation and Chris arching into him and Mett tugging at his hair and the leather tight on his skin, Ash was about to topple over the edge.

“Holy shit, Mett!” Chris suddenly shouted and grabbed one of Ash’s hands, pulling it with surprising strength and shoving it down the crack of Mett’s ass. “Kiima,” Chris’s voice was breathy but loud. “Someone has been hiding something from us.”

Ash’s fingers slid down and hit something firm and glass-smooth, warmed to body temperature. He tugged the flared base, got resistance, and Mett moaned. Ash had only seen the object in question in their videos… well, and once in the drawer earlier that evening before it had mysteriously disappeared. Mett pulled away from the kiss, moved to whisper in Ash’s ear. “That’s the surprise, Kiima. I’m ready for when you are done with Yatkap’ichma’. You can just slide out of his ass and right into mine.” 

And that was it, Ash lost what little grasp on his control that he had left. His thrusts stuttered and he was coming, world narrowing to a singular point and then exploding outward in waves. As he shuddered through the last aftershocks Ash found himself gently kissing Mett, Chris stroking his thighs. There it was again, that feeling floating in his chest… _home_.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tryst on Starbase 8: Day One, Part Three
> 
> (or the one where we learn Chris Pike's nickname from his Academy days)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would have put this in with Chapter 5, but I like to keep my POVs separate. For my sanity.

Ash seemed so content as he came down from the high of orgasm that Mett was almost loath to disturb him. But Mett had been watching these two for what had to be a decade by now (okay, maybe an hour) and he was damn well starting to have _needs_.

Mett kissed Ash one more time before lifting himself off of Chris’s chest. Both Ash and Chris watched as Mett did a little shimmy to drop the black underwear to the floor and he preened under the attention. Double the focus, double the fun, apparently. 

He put a knee on the bed next to Chris and pivoted, ass now facing both Chris and Ash and he leaned over a little, canted his hips to further draw their attention downward. “So who wants to do the honors, gentlemen?”

At least three hands were on Mett’s ass immediately, touching and grabbing and stroking and his thoughts got a little scrambled. This was so _so_ good. Just the right side of sensory overload. Mett said as much and that got a bark of laughter. “Some lines are meant to be crossed.” That was Chris, the smug bastard.

Mett was going to retort but then someone, Mett didn’t know or care who, started slowly pulling the plug out of his ass. Mett hissed and arched into it only to have another set of fingers find his clit and start long slow strokes. Mett couldn’t hold back his moan, which jumped up an octave in pitch as fingernails raked over the nub. _Chris._ He had learned that trick about 72 hours prior and had used it to excellent effect two more times since. 

Stroke, stroke, nails. Stroke, stroke, nails. Stroke, stroke.. And then the widest part of the plug was pulled out of Mett’s ass and nails and he came with abrupt “Oh fuck yes!” 

Mett was suddenly ravenous for more, barely through the aftershocks of orgasm, and didn’t leave time for Chris to get a sarcastic quip in, grabbed Chris’s hard enough cock, hoisted a leg over like Chris was a goddamn horse, and impaled himself in one go. Mett only vaguely registered Ash’s shout of surprise as he had to lean way back to avoid being kicked. The quick movement pulled Ash out of Chris with a wet squelch.

Mett looked back over his shoulder and was quite sure he made one hell of a picture. Hands splayed on Chris’s chest, hair a sweaty mess plastered to his forehead and neck, nostrils flaring around heaving breaths. No doubt his pupils were long-since dilated, spread across his eyes as wide as his legs over Chris. 

Ash lay there, bent backwards almost all the way onto the mattress, knees still under Chris’s thighs, looking a little awe-struck. “ _Kiima_ ,” Mett growled. He didn’t have enough coherence left to finish the sentence with something like _fuck my ass now thank you,_ but that was only because Chris had rolled his hips upward and Mett’s mouth fell open around a moan.

Mett saw Ash starting to right himself, cock still hard and slick, so Mett left him to it and leaned down over Chris, chest to chest, panted into his mouth. “Gonna fuck you up, my love.” Mett looked into Chris’s eyes to find a dark hunger there that matched his own. Perfect. Always so perfect. 

“I think you are the one about to get fucked up,” Ash purred, yanking back on Mett’s hair hard and pulling a giddy moan out with it. “Ready to live the dream, Kyamo?”

 _Fuck you and your smart mouth_ was Mett’s last coherent thought as Ash pushed his cock into Mett’s ass. 

Mett heard Chris moan with him. It took a few minutes of shifting to find the right angle, and Chris slipped out once, but once Ash was holding Mett up off of Chris slightly, strong arms over his chest and biceps straining, they were good. 

Ash had the bulk of the leverage here, so apparently that meant Chris could prop himself up on his elbows to get a better view. That put Mett in range to kiss him, teeth and tongue and filthy. Mett keened, devouring Chris’s mouth while starting to rock backward onto two cocks. Ash took the cue and started moving himself, keeping the rhythm and holding Mett up and grunting with each shallow thrust. “Fuck. Can feel you. Chris. In there with me. Gods.”

Chris let himself drop away from Mett onto the bed and Mett was going to argue the point but then Chris had a vice-grip on Mett’s hips and was shoving him harder down onto them. “Next time.” Shove. “We’ll have to.” Shove. “Try both.” Shove. “In the same hole.” Shove.

The idea made Mett delirious with want. He knew he was past talking now, a long unending string of _yesyesyes_ tumbling out of his mouth as he brought his own fingers to his clit. One swipe, two, and…

“Oh no you don’t.” Ash’s hand was a vice on Mett’s wrist. “Yatkap, if you would?” Ash’s voice was low and predatory and Mett shuddered.

“Of course.” Chris almost laughed, two fingers immediately hitting home, one on each side of Mett’s clit, palm actually facing down so his blunt fingernails scraped on each downward stroke. Mett came on the second stroke, embarrassingly fast, sobbing and clawing at Chris’s shoulders and chest. But Chris didn’t stop, actually fucking _sped up_ , and Ash kept thrusting and then Chris pulled out his goddamn _I am the Captain of this Ship_ voice, “Mett. Again.”

Mett howled as one of the most powerful orgasms of his life roared through him but _Chris didn’t stop_. And then Ash was at the back of his neck, his _Kiima_ , sucking, sucking, and _biting_. And how the _fuck_ had Chris suddenly taken the driver’s seat Mett had no idea, but Mett was never leaving this space ever again, connected with these two people in every way, connecting them to each other, a three-thread tapestry, woven and intertwined and at Chris’s low “ _A_ _gain_ ” Mett came a fourth time, not as loud, but longer, more liquid, out to his toes. 

“There.” Chris murmured, while Ash scratched Mett’s scalp. “Good.” He propped up again on one elbow and kissed Mett. “Now relax and enjoy the ride, Kyamo, love.”

Mett wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders, but he was still pretty sure Chris and Ash became once force, a coordinated tidal wave that rocked his oh-so-relaxed body, fucked him thoroughly, until they both came, Chris following Ash into sweet sweet oblivion. 

Had they lasted just a little bit longer Mett was pretty sure he would have come again just from the internal stimulation, but, then again, that probably would have put him into a coma, so not the worst outcome. As it was, they collapsed sideways into a sweaty, sticky, pile on the bed, Mett between Chris and Ash and content to stay there for approximately forever.

Days later (probably minutes), Ash apparently had come back to his body enough for speech. “Any chance your shower fits three?” he mumbled into Mett’s hair.

Mett tried to laugh but it came out as some huffed breaths instead. “No, but the tub would.”

Chris groaned. “I would fall asleep and drown.”

“I have to go do the thing.” Ash curled closer to Mett, put a hand on Chris’s hip. 

“Good luck with that.” Chris laughed, more of an actual laugh than Mett could manage. “I don’t know if I could find my fucking feet right now.” Chris tilted his head to look over Mett. “Hope it isn’t too essential a job?”

“Nah, just a test of how well they are getting on without me. Shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.” Ash was already, regretfully, moving away, trailing kisses along Mett’s back as he went.

“How in the nine levels of hell are you two so coherent?” Mett tried to shove at Chris but just ended up wiggling a shoulder. And fuck you too, body and your depolarization and neuron recovery times.

“Sweetheart, you came three times in seven minutes. I marked the chrono. Four times in the past half hour.” Chris swiped some hair out of Mett’s face. “Your brain is still recalibrating on an atomic level, so hush.” 

Mett just mumbled nonsense and pressed tighter into Chris. He heard the fresher turn on a moment later, just the sonic, not the water. 

Chris was rubbing his back in long soothing pets, Mett’s head now tucked under his chin. “That was incredible, love. Thank you.”

Mett hummed in agreement and de-burrowed enough from Chris’s chest to look in his eyes, their noses touching. He studied Chris’s gaze, saw nothing but contentment there. “You’re welcome.” Mett wasn’t sure how else to follow up from that, there was so much he wanted to say. What a gift it was to have a partner who wanted this, who was just so damn accepting of and willing to explore everything this world had to offer. And how absolutely painful it was to think that he would have to part from him again after two days, less than that now, for another undetermined amount of time. Just letters and vids and maybe a live holo and… 

“You’re thinking too much.” Chris kissed Mett firmly. “Stop. I am not gone yet.” Mett felt a little embarrassed that he was so easy to read. They lapsed into easy silence, Chris just staring, hand still petting. “You were right, though.”

Mett’s eyes smiled at the non sequitur. “Was I now?”

Chris nodded, trying for mock-serious. “Yes. That was definitely life-altering sex.” A beat and then Chris’s lips tightened as he tried to hold back laughter and Mett was bursting into hysterics. Ash exited the bathroom, towel around his waist, to the pair of them absolutely crying laughing, now just because they could. They paused, looked at Ash, and then crumpled into absurdity again. 

Ash blinked, staring down at them with the barest hint of a fond smile on his face. “You know what? I don’t even want to know.” He took off his towel and dumped it on Mett’s head. “You two loons deserve each other.” 

Mett balled up the towel and threw it back at that lovely ass as Ash bent down to get his clothes. “Go do your thing. And bring back real food. I honestly don’t care what.”

Chris laughed. “Hungry again already?”

“How about you get fucked six ways into next week and then tell me how many calories you burned?” Mett shoved at Chris’s shoulder.

“I mean if you are offering…” Chris ducked the pillow aimed at his head with what could only be described as a giggle. “We could do a scientific experiment?” He ducked again.

Ash cleared his throat from the end of the bed, hands on his hips. “ _Children._ Mett wants food. I want beer. Anything else? While I am dressed and out? It isn’t happening again.”

Chris nearly moaned. “Holy shit, a beer.” He lifted himself onto one elbow to look at Ash. “You find me an actual American lager and I will show you why Kat Cornwell’s older brother started calling me Longjaw back at the Academy.” Chris’s smile was rakish and he popped his jaw for effect. Mett nearly fell off the bed laughing.

Ash rolled his eyes, not taking the bait, but unable to contain his smile either. “You are both ridiculous.” He started to walk out and then looked back over his shoulder, his expression suddenly softer.

Chris had stretched out with his face in a pillow, but Mett sat up and locked eyes with Ash. Mett smiled, something fluttery and electric in his stomach at the expression on Ash’s face. Gods above, he was beautiful. “[Stay safe and hurry back.]” 

Ash smiled, really smiled, eyes bright and shoulders relaxed and posture open, then nodded once and left.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wild plot appears! That's 4700 words of plot and fluffiness! Drama and violence! Excitement all around!
> 
> Reminder, text in square brackets is in Klingon.

Chris and Mett promptly fell asleep in a tangle of limbs and bedsheets. Which meant that when the alert of an urgent incoming message came through it startled the hell out of them both.

_Urgent. Incoming message for Dr. Zemke. Arrival code llysh'a. Urgent._

Mett had kept the alert the same tone as the one used in Starfleet because why not take advantage of years and years of training. This meant that both Mett and Chris shot bolt upright as a cold dump of adrenaline rushed through their veins.

“Remote mtDNA scan protocol alpha-iota.” Mett said rapidly, eyes locking with Chris. “Computer, play message.” A litany of _fuckfuckfuckfuck_ ran through Mett’s head as he looked to the chrono. Ash had said it would only take him a couple of hours. It had been just over triple that. _Kiima, what happened?_

 _Audio only,_ the computer stated before playing.

Once again, Ash’s voice came at them from a speaker in the ceiling, but there was no trace of the arousal-frustration of the last message Mett and Chris had listened to. Further, it was entirely in whispered Klingon. “[Kyamo. I am still on base. I think. Inside of an engineering configuration. I can see what looks like hydrobromium processing? Maybe storage? Definitely tubes. Although it doesn't smell like it much… My first instinct was that this was some cruel ‘fleet joke to test the integrity of the Section further, but they wouldn’t use these methods...”] Ash grunted and the comm picked up a wet noise. Chris inhaled sharply at the sound and Mett knew the sound of blood-soaked fabric all too well. Mett and Chris both leapt to start putting on clothes as the message continued, still-sticky skin and sweat-salty hair be damned. “[I am safe. For now. But whomever sent these goons will figure out that they are dead soon enough and send more. I won’t let them track me to you two.]” Another pause. An audible swallow. “[I cauterized the external wounds, you don’t want to know how, but I am pretty sure there is internal damage. I think the broken ribs got my spleen, maybe stomach, not sure. Contusions are running dorsolateral left hypochondriac to lumbar. Left femur is FUBAR, but not compound. Lungs and heart are as stable as I suppose I can expect.]” Mett froze for a moment, doing some mental calculations versus what he knew about Klingon biology. There was another grunt from Ash, a squeak of wet boot rubber against metal, and he continued. “[I don’t know how far I am going to get before my leg gives out, Kyamo. Then I am a sitting duck. Gonna make it easy for whomever to find me. Let’s just hope it is you first.]” 

By the time the message ended both Chris and Mett were mostly dressed and Mett had given up looking for his boots in favor of checking the stock in his med kit. Not that he ever left it less than fully stocked and ready to go, but _nine hells_ shit never could go smoothly could it. What the fuck was these past two weeks, anyway? Shuttle almost-explosion on the way to the _Enterprise_ , then the op on Velusia II went tits up, now this? Retiring to some godforsaken island sounded excellent right now. Just take Chris and Ash and… didn’t Chris have land out in Mojave?

“Computer, Starfleet authorization Pike india-oscar-yankee-niner-tango. Scan Starbase 8 plans for all instances of hydrobromium. Cross reference with repairs in the past year and send them to me.” Chris called out, grabbing a random PADD from the bedroom desk.

Mett nodded at Chris and tried to get his own breathing under control. He was spectacularly unsuccessful. The voice in Mett’s head kept sobbing out phrases like _you are going to lose him_ and _this is why you can’t have nice things_ and _Kiima is going to die before you ever tell him._ Dammit. Dammitdammitdammit. Chris wasn’t wrong when he had said the past eight hours had included life-altering sex. Not in terms of what sex could be, _per se_ , but more about what Mett wanted from sex, from sex with these two individuals. Mett had always wanted to tie himself to Chris, that had been true since that first _Disco_ anniversary, but this heightened thing with Ash, that was new. They were friends who had sex, that wasn’t in doubt, but suddenly Mett wanted the softer things, too. To know what his Kiima looked like in the morning after a long and nightmare-free sleep. To taste his lips before he leaves for work in the morning, after he had a mug of whatever he drinks with breakfast (Coffee? Tea? Something else? Mett had no idea…). To see his face when he realized that Chris could make a perfect omelet even when he was running on three hours of sleep because they had frivolously spent the night reenacting parts of their favorite books, movies, and plays. To hear his breath hitch the first time Mett calls him _par’Mach’kai._

Mett felt his resolve turn to steel: doctor mode, engage. “Injuries are just as bad as you think they are, Chris. Given his physiology, Ash probably has two hours left of movement. Complex fracture of the femur is the least of our worries, though.” Mett caught his boots as Chris tossed them across the room. 

“Fuck.” Chris summed up, eloquent as always. “There are 46 different hydrobromium caches across the base. Luckily? I suppose? There are only sixteen in areas where someone Ash’s size could be walking in any upright sense. And only eleven have been sealed off recently enough to not produce any odor.” Chris walked over and knelt down where Mett was fumbling to secure his own boots. He lowered his voice. “It is going to be okay, Mett. We got this.” Chris set the buckle of the last boot and stood to press his forehead to Mett’s. “We’re one hell of a team. Those negotiations on Cardassia Prime proved that two years ago. How else can we narrow down the candidate locations?”

Mett closed his eyes for a moment while his hands gripped Chris’s biceps. Breathe once. Breathe twice. If he was going to choose someone to save Ash with, Captain Christopher Pike was it. Mett took the PADD from Chris and scrolled through the highlighted options. “The five caches on decks two through seven are near areas too public for shit like this, Ash would have been able to cause enough of a ruckus to garner attention, even at this time of night. The one on Deck 16 is like, fuck right under us? No way. I have been wondering what the fucking noise is at 0314 every morning. Anyway, we literally would have heard that… leaves five possible locations. We can drop down and start on Deck 11 and work our way up? Last candidate is on Deck 32.”

The corner of Chris’s lips was quirked slightly. “There’s the man I love.” Mett rolled his eyes through his blush. Chris had this absolutely unnerving ability to both calm and excite Mett at the same time. Mett distracted himself by securing the medkit strap across his torso. When he looked up again Chris was pulling cooking knives out of a drawer in the kitchen. “I am guessing this is the best you have for weapons?”

“Probably. No phasers, certainly.” Mett took a paring knife and slipped it into his boot, a slightly larger utility knife up his sleeve where it could easily slide into his hand. Chris made two other, larger knives and a small meat tenderizing hammer disappear onto his person. Mett boggled at how not a crease of his uniform was out of place, “How did you…? You know what, tell me later.” Chris snorted a laugh but motioned for Mett to lead on.

They headed out the door and into the warm dim light of Starbase 8’s evening program. 

It was pretty easy to hustle through the light traffic of the residential decks, so they were able to check off the hydrobromium tanks on decks 11 and 13 quickly. Two down, three to go, an hour and a half left. That was good.

Time didn’t remain on their side. The run-around to the cache on Deck 18 had nearly convinced Mett that this must be the spot, simply because it was so out of the fucking way. But it ended up being a dead end. Almost another hour wasted and two more locations to go. Thirty minutes until Kiima probably passed out, if they were lucky. If he wasn't already out.

The voice in Mett’s head was back to screaming its emotional grenades into his subconscious so loudly that he almost fucked it all up. Chris grabbed his arm and pulled him back at the last second, signalling to stay quiet. 

Four individuals, wearing tactical armor and no doubt carrying multiple weapons on their persons, had entered the passageway ahead of them. It was the first time they had seen anyone else heading towards one of their target locations. Given their choice of attire, they weren’t here for lawn games. Mett slid the utility knife into his palm. 

They waited another beat and then followed behind the group, Chris on the right wall, Mett on the left. They moved fast and quiet, communicating with hand signals and tailing the group around two more turns. 

When the first of the group turned the third corner she gave out a shout as a thick metal pipe came flying out of the darkness at her head. While she did successfully duck the projectile, Chris took the opportunity to charge forward, flinging the small hammer out ahead of him and nailing the rearmost of the group right in the back of the head. The would-be attacker fell to his knees with a startled scream, which drew the attention of the other three away from what Mett could only assume to be Ash in the darkened service tunnel beyond.

Mett sprinted to get within throwing range of the group, skidded to a stop, and let the utility knife fly. It went straight through the right jugular veins and into the right carotid of the Andorian male, who gurgled and crumpled to the ground in a flood of blood. Chris looked back over his shoulder from where he had stopped about 10 meters from the group, agitation flashing across his features. Mett was sure that they were going to have a talk about murdering complete strangers later. But that was a concern for future-Mett, right now what was most important was the heavy pained breathing he could hear from beyond the quartet-turned-trio. 

“You get one chance to stand down.” Chris went into command mode, a knife suddenly in each hand, stance ready. 

“Starfleet to the rescue?” The woman closest to Ash, the one who had evaded the pipe, sneered. “For a Klingon abomination? How quaint.”

Mett _growled_. “You wish I was Starfleet, fuckwit.” He crouched down, grabbed his second knife and was primed to charge. “Let’s dance.” 

The fourth attacker flung a grenade, but Chris was on it, jumping up to knock it out of the air with the butt of a blade, changing its trajectory right into Mett’s path. Mett lunged forward, caught it, took a fraction of a nanosecond to look at the object, turned it clockwise, and stabbed his blade right through a side panel. It deactivated with a fizz. 

Clear that the grenade plan was annulled, everyone moved at once. Mett was just a bit faster than Chris, using the blade-plus-dead-grenade as a cudgel to hit the closest of the three in the nose at exactly the right angle to drive the nasal cartilage and septum up into the frontal sinus and crack into the skull proper. Being a medical doctor had its benefits in all sorts of interesting situations. Between that and the damage to the back of his head from the hammer, he went down to his knees once more, unlikely to be steady on his feet again any time soon.

Mett heard Chris engaging with the grenade-launching human and so flew over the dead Andorian to the woman, maybe part Romulan, who had spoken, who was now lunging down the hall towards Ash. Mett barreled into her, flinging them a solid eight meters, past Ash and into a wall. Mett rolled off the woman and onto his feet.

“Kyamo!” Ash shouted from his place leaning heavy onto the tunnel wall. “[Three o’clock!]”

Mett turned to his right just in time to catch a tonfa that Ash must have pulled off of one of his attackers. “[I do love beating things with sticks.]” He quipped, watching his opponent pull out two electrified batons.

They circled each other and then tussled, Mett being careful to avoid being electrified while trying to get in close enough to get into melee combat. He got a few good hits in before having to jump back after getting a burn across his right thigh. 

“[She’s got a tell in her left shoulder! Watch for it to drop!]” Ash yelled. 

Mett took a nanosecond to hit the quick release on the strap of his bag, let it drop to the floor, and kicked it back to Ash. "[Hyposprays are set for you. Get yourself medicated and scan with the tricorder. I’ll be there in a minute.]”

Ash started rummaging through the bag as Mett feinted and dropped into a sweeping kick. The woman was forced to jump out of the way. When she landed Mett saw her shoulder drop and that gave the opening to strike out with the tonfa and knock one of the electric batons out of her hand. 

“Why are you doing this?” Mett dodged a swing with the other baton and a kick. “Who has it out for him?”

The woman chuckled, wiped the blood off her lip, dropped low, and got in a solid hit with the baton to Mett’s right side. Had that been on the left his heart might have stuttered. “Don’t you think that one of the Great Houses, like House of Kor, would just _love_ to know that the consort of the ‘Great Mother’ isn’t actually dead? That she _lied_ to them? How much do you think that might be worth?”

Mett shuffled to the side, avoiding another blow, and twisted to get into close quarters. A punch to her sternum and he was able to grab her wrist, pressing his fingers in between the bones just so and causing the second baton to drop. It hit Mett in the arm on the way down, but that only caused his muscles to tighten around her wrist and a cracking noise preceded her yell.

“Just money? That’s all this is to you? You want to sell some fucking information?” Mett swung the tonfa hard, hitting the woman right in the temple. She crumpled to the floor with a groan, looked up at Mett with a grimace. “Who do you work for?” She laughed. Mett kicked her in the gut and she groaned. “Who. Sent. You.” She laughed again and Mett stepped on her already damaged hand. She screamed but otherwise gave no ground.

Mett squatted down and whispered. “I already told you. I am not Starfleet.” Mett grabbed her face with one hand, the nail of one finger pressing into the corner of her eye, and his voice dropped lower in pitch. “And you tried to kill par’Mach’kai, so…” He started to flex his fingers, spots of blood appearing where his nails cut flesh.

“Mett!” Chris’s voice was close, his hand suddenly on Mett’s shoulder. “Stop, Kyamo. Stop. Enough.” Mett refocused and saw Chris’s knee on the woman’s shoulder, holding her down. 

Panting through gritted teeth, Mett backed off. He stomped over to the medical bag, easily pulled out one of the loaded hyposprays, and came back to stab the woman in the neck with far more force than necessary. She went limp and Chris looked up, edge of alarm to his eyes. “Sedative. We can question her later?” Chris nodded, shoulders relaxed slightly. “The others?”

Chris shook his head. “Out cold. Well, and the one you killed.” His mouth turned down in disapproval for a moment, then he looked over his shoulder to Ash.

Mett got up and went over to Ash, knelt beside him where he was sitting on the floor, back against the wall, legs splayed out in front of him. Ash’s eyes were closed and his breathing heavy. “Hey Kiima.” 

Ash’s eyes fluttered open, pupils dilated from pain. It took him a moment to focus on Mett. He reached up and put a hand to Mett’s cheek, his thumb rubbing absently under his lips. Mett pressed Ash’s hand there, turned into it, kissed his palm, then his wrist. 

With his other hand Mett flipped open the tricorder and went through the readings Ash had already gathered. He felt the blood drain from his face and looked to the side to see that Ash’s eyes had drooped, but were not fully closed. “That good, huh?”

“I am sure it can’t be any worse that you look, Kiima.” Chris smiled, trying for rakish, Mett could tell, as he squatted down on Ash’s other side. “The living attackers are all now sedated and secured. Even if they wake up soon, they aren’t going anywhere.”

“Good.” Mett murmured, letting go of Ash’s hand as he went to start getting supplies from the kit. Ash’s hand dropped to his shoulder. “When do you want us to notify Starfleet, Kiima? Have you already checked in with 31?”

“Yeah.” Ash grunted, shifted his weight to one side. “This happened after all that. I was stupid. Distracted trying to decide where to get food.” His lips quirked ruefully and he leaned his head back on the wall. “She mentioned House of Kor. We need to find out who else knows. Those who came to help _Disco_ were sworn to secrecy, were all of House of Mo’Kai, L’Rell’s people. I can’t imagine one of them squealed but…”

“Where else could it have come from?” Chris nodded, clearly concerned. He took a pair of scissors from Mett and started cutting off Ash’s torn and blood-stained shirt. 

Ash shook his head. “Don’t know. All my Starfleet medical files are falsified, thanks to Kyamo here.” Chris raised an eyebrow and Mett just shrugged one shoulder. 

“They aren’t a flat out _lie._ Just… redacted. Highly.” A ghost of a smile crossed Mett’s features. “And maybe a little… embellished.” He started investigating the open wounds on Ash’s skin with nimble fingers. “You cauterized these with one of those batons, didn’t you?” Ash’s silence was enough answer and Mett laid his palm gently on a spot on Ash’s sternum. “You know that it could have stopped your heart, right?” Mett’s voice was smaller, worried.

Ash looked away, focusing on the middle distance in front of him. He swallowed once. “Yeah. I… I felt that.”

Mett made a noise in the back of his throat, something strained and strangled, but started working on rigging up something to splint Ash’s leg enough to move him. Chris took off his uniform jacket, rolled up the sleeves of his undershirt, and began placing salve and bandages over wounds on Ash’s torso at Mett’s direction. 

They lapsed into only talking technicalities, medical instructions, and soothing words when Ash groaned in pain even through high doses of neuroblockers. Mett thought only about preserving all that he almost lost. The surface wounds weren't terrible, although they’d need some assistance to not scar given how haphazardly they had been cauterized. The internal damage and the femur would take more time, but with the right tools it would only put Ash into recovery for a week or two. Mett was already thinking of reasons that would convince Starfleet to let Ash stay on Starbase 8 for the duration. 

With the splint almost set-up and the internal bleeding stabilized for the time being, Chris moved away to try to contact Starfleet Command to finally update them. Ash leaned his forehead to Mett’s shoulder and sighed, “This wasn’t how I wanted to hear you call me par’Mach’kai.”

Mett felt a new dump of adrenaline into his veins. No, this wasn’t how he wanted to first tell Ash that he loved him, that he was in love with him, either. Didn’t make it less true. “I meant it, Kiima. Wanted to tell you, but I thought I should talk to Chris first. I think he already knows, he has this uncanny sixth sense, but... “ Mett sat from his crouching position and gingerly leaned against Ash’s side, curled into the undamaged side of Ash’s chest. He put one hand over Ash’s heart. “[You are _my beloved_. Just as much as Chris is. I didn’t realize it until I was here with you both.]”

Ash leaned his cheek on the top of Mett’s head. “[I thought… I expected to be jealous of him.]” He didn’t elaborate and Mett knew enough not to push. Mett spent the time being reassured by the rhythmic sounds of Ash’s biology that said his Kiima was alive.

Chris returned before Ash could continue verbalizing his thoughts. “Una is sending a clean-up crew over. We’re going to take the attackers to the _Enterprise_ , keep them in the brig until a transport to Earth can get here. Apparently we have more secure facilities than the base. And these idiots are going straight to Starfleet Command.” He crouched down in front of Ash. “Looks like Command is taking this very seriously. They wanted to transport you to Earth, too. But I let them know that you had a doctor here on the base that wasn’t going to let you be moved yet… they didn’t need to know if that was for a medical reason or not.” Chris winked at Mett before sitting on the floor as well, facing the other two with his legs crossed. “Seems my crew is on babysitting duty until the secure transport gets here… in four days.” Chris sighed with mock drama. “Going to be so boring stuck here at dock for so long…”

Mett let out a soft laugh. “I bet we can keep you occupied, even if it isn’t quite as… _strenuous_ … as the past day.”

Mett could feel Ash’s smile against the top of his head. “Hey, you two can be as strenuous as you want, just make sure I have a good view.” They all huffed out laughter and then settled into comfortable silence that drew out into almost a quarter hour of precious rest. “Thank you. For coming for me.” Ash interrupted the peace with a quiet voice.

Chris’s eyebrows shot up. “You thought we wouldn’t?” Ash shrugged one shoulder and then winced in pain. Chris shook his head, put a hand on the shin of Ash’s uninjured leg and squeezed. “At this point you are stuck with us, Kiima.” 

Chris made deliberate eye contact with Mett and a whole world of conversation passed between them. _Us? Do you really mean that? You love him, don’t you? So, the three of us? Are you sure you want this too? Can we make this work? Don’t we have to try?_

Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. _Yes._

Mett crawled forward on his knees to Chris, cupped his face in both hands, and kissed him long and slow. “Thank you.” Mett whispered against his lips. Perhaps all this weird shit going wrong was a cosmic balance for this one thing going so damn _right._

“I think that is my line.” Chris whispered back, kissed Mett again, got lost in it for awhile. Too long, apparently. 

Una cleared her throat and Ash chuckled himself into a moan of pain. “You’ve got a minute and thirty before the rest of the crew is here, sir.”

Chris parted from Mett with a groan. Mett broke into giggles. “Hey Una,” said Mett. “Spock coming too? We gonna get the whole band back together?” Mett trailed his hand along Chris’s shoulder as he stood and started to make sure everything was packed back into his kit, then moved to check that all their attackers were still out.

Chris and Una started helping Ash up, each of them under one arm. “That’s actually not a bad idea, given that I am guessing the invalid is going to need some entertainment for a few days?” Una quipped, raising an eyebrow to Mett from under Ash’s arm. 

“At the very least.” Mett nodded, taking Chris’s uniform jacket and helping the other two get Ash into it without him falling over. It was a tight fit on his broader shoulders, but covered the bandages and extent of his wounds from prying eyes. “Once we get him back to my facilities I can get Ash put back together, but there are some things that just need plain old rest.” 

Una, unsurprisingly, had been smart about it and told them that she had brought a personal shuttle that would get them through the base without walking. They just had to get out of the service tunnels. Mett could have kissed her. Ash wasn’t critical anymore, but the faster they could get Ash to medical the sooner Mett could lower his own blood pressure back into normal range. 

The team from the _Enterprise_ met them just as they were starting their trek out. Una and Chris exchanged a glance. Chris nodded once and took command of the group, pulling his badge off of the jacket Ash was wearing and then shifting Ash’s weight onto Mett’s shoulders. Not only would it make sense for the Captain to oversee this, but this time it was personal.

What Mett didn’t expect was Chris to lean in and kiss him in front of six of the crew. “I’ll meet you back at your place after we get this all cleaned up.” He said after they parted, softly enough that it was unlikely more than Ash and Una heard him, but not impossible. Mett just blinked in surprise and nodded, noting the unrestrained softness in Chris’s eyes. When he glanced to the side, Mett saw both Ash and Una looking a bit surprised as well. Apparently Chris was a little more serious about not keeping this a secret than Mett expected. Not that he was really complaining. Mett would ride Chris on the bridge of the _Enterprise_ with everyone watching if he could. 

Mett watched as Ash and Chris shared a long look, almost long enough that Mett thought Chris might kiss him as well, but whatever it was it remained unsaid and Chris turned to the members of his crew. “Lieutenant T’praas, let’s mop this up. Follow me.”

Once Mett, Ash, and Una were in sight of the personal shuttle, Una spoke. “So, who is going to update me on what _you three_ have been up to?” Una's voice lilted with amusement. Ash stumbled, blushed, and she raised her eyebrow as if that had given her much of the answer she was looking for.

“Una, dear, I love you to death, but are you absolutely sure you aren’t telepathic? Or Betazoid? I know the Captain is rather easy to read sometimes, but even this is excessive.” Mett mused, avoiding a direct answer and keeping his eyes ahead. He was doing some mental calculations, knowing that Una of all people wouldn’t care about what _seemed_ like was about to be their new arrangement, and that Chris would have her at the top of his “people in the know” list, but it might be worth waiting until actual words were said amongst the three of them. 

Una laughed brightly. “There are many days where I know Christopher Pike better than Christopher Pike knows Christopher Pike, that is true.” She helped Ash shift his weight and get seated in the shuttle. “But I didn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to figure this one out.” 

Una leaned in between Mett and Ash, eyes twinkling as she whispered to them both. “You two have matching hickies on your necks.”

There was a beat of silence and they all burst into stupid giggles. Ash leaned in to Mett while gasping. “Please. Please stop making me laugh…”

Mett apologized with a kiss to his forehead. “Let’s get the invalid to medical. Una, head for the facilities on Deck Five.” As the shuttle took off Mett interlaced his fingers with Ash’s. They were going to be okay. _This_ was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Klingon dictionary entry for you...
> 
> par'Mach'kai (parmaqqay) = my beloved/my lover, in reference to Klingon love, which has a more aggressive/intense connotation


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash thinks. Ash gets cared for. Ash watches. And things become more official for all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I played a little fast a loose with the details of "The Cage" and "The Menagerie" so as to give Chris the set of experiences I wanted. ::shrugs::

Ash had only been in the biobed for a few hours before he started to get restless. The small private medical bay space was featureless and boring. He had already been healed as much as was possible - the rest was left up to his own body. He pushed the button on the silver cuff that had been placed on his wrist. 

A second later Mett stuck his head around the corner with a frown. “Ash Tyler! I am trying to get authorization to move you to what apparently technically qualifies as an _undisclosed location_ … so don’t make me regret giving you that damn call button!” He popped back into the office.

Ash chuckled to himself. That was totally worth it. Ruffling Mett was always an amusement, especially when it was low stakes like this. Ash leaned back with a sigh and a smile. Also just seeing Mett alive and well was a comfort. There had been a couple of hours there where Ash wasn’t sure he was going to see Mett again. Or Chris. See them again. Them?

It certainly seemed like they were heading towards a _them_. Three of them. Ash reached up and touched his neck where Mett had healed the dark bruise with the unmistakable edge of teeth to it. First Ash’s, then his own. They had taken a moment to look in the mirror before Mett vanished the marks away, just to confirm what Una had said. Yeap. Identical: left side, slightly lateral and superior to the sternoclavicular joint, Mett helpfully supplied. And both would have been just under a properly-fitted regulation Starfleet collar when the uniform was all zipped up... you know, if either of them ever wore properly-fitted regulation Starfleet uniforms. Ash made a note to himself to ask Chris the story behind that particular habit sometime soon.

Ash felt a frisson of pleasure curl through him at the thought of being marked by Chris. And sharing that mark with Mett.

And then there was the whole par’Mach’kai adventure. Not the most ideal of circumstances, Ash knew Mett would freely admit, but fuck he actually said it. Mett called Ash par’Mach’kai _to a stranger_. It was a declaration. A demarcation. A threat. Cross _this_ line and there is no turning back.

Honestly, it was probably good that the attackers were being sent to the brig on the _Enterprise_. From the expression that Ash had seen on Mett’s face he still wasn’t sure that Mett wouldn’t seek them out to finish the job. Ash mused, not for the first time, about asking Mett to come back to Starfleet under Section 31. His personal ship was always in need of good medical care and they were almost at as much risk of encountering some alien contagion as the _Enterprise_ , so… why not?

It would be selfish, though. It would keep Mett to himself and away from Chris more often than not. And Ash knew that he and Chris weren’t apt to cross paths too often out in the vastness of space. Well, Ash could force the issue, of course, at least a few times, but eventually someone would get suspicious. 

Speaking of suspicious, Ash also needed to get a handle on how this information about him had gotten out. He should put in for a holocall with L’Rell, let her know that someone thought there was a market amongst the Great Houses for such information. And emphasize to her that things were airtight on Starfleet’s end, so she better go collect her damn people. Una and Spock only had an inkling about the truth. Chris knew more, Mett knew the most, but neither were risks. Any other non-Klingon who knew the truth was a millenium into the future, so not much room for leakage on this ship.

Ash grabbed a PADD from the side table next to the biobed, typed through into his encrypted line, and sent a holocall request to a contact he knew could get the message to L’Rell. He checked his own messages, responded to a few from Command, was about to confirm one very recent note that had come in asking if he was actually staying on Starbase 8 after his injury, when Mett came quite literally screaming into the room.

“I did it! I diiiiiid it!” He clambered up into Ash’s lap, careful to put his weight on his own knees on either side of Ash’s thighs, not on Ash himself. “Two weeks!” Mett leaned in and kissed him, tongue asking immediately for entrance and Ash couldn’t refuse. Long minutes later, they parted. “What am I going to do with you - more to the point, _to you_ \- for twwwooooooo weeeeeeks?” Mett’s breath was hot against Ash’s neck as Mett squirmed in excitement. Then he backed up a little, pressed his forehead to Ash’s.

Ash sighed, staring into storm-grey eyes, deep silver like Chris’s hair, and put his hands on either side of Mett’s face. “par’Mach’kai…” Ash barely brushed his lips against Mett’s, kept speaking as they touched. “Two weeks. More than enough time to fall in love again.”

And then Ash’s hands were in Mett’s hair and they were pressed as close together as two clothed people could be. Not just kissing, but panting and breathing into each other, mouths open and lips and noses and tongues touching, eyes locked open and staring, falling, drowning, Mett’s hips grinding down into Ash’s. 

Mett froze, lifted his body as far away as he could from Ash, back arching like a scared cat, and watched him carefully. “Gods. Sorry Kiima, I didn’t mean to… ”

Ash looked at Mett, confused and a bit dazed. Mett’s expression was almost alarmed. He looked down at their bodies, now separated. “You didn’t hurt me, Kyamo.” Ash murmured.

Mett cocked his head to the side, curiosity overtaking confusion on his features. “I was riding…”

Ash inhaled sharply, looked down at their bodies again. He hadn’t even noticed. That hadn’t happened since… well, ever? Ever that he could really remember. Partners had tried, many times, in the years since _Discovery_ , but it had always ended badly. Sometimes very badly. And Ash’s actions always happened unconsciously. Mett had been able to sit in his lap before, but the moment things got vaguely sexual it had gone pear-shaped. He would never forget the look of those bruises on Mett’s back.

Mett’s expression turned soft and he gingerly lowered his weight onto Ash’s lap. He ran a hand through Ash’s hair and Ash leaned into it. “Seems like we have even more to explore, par’Mach’kai. But later. Let’s get you out of here.” Mett kissed Ash’s cheek and hopped off the bed, offering Ash a hand. “You think you can walk? It would be good for you, as long as we take it slow.”

They walked together with Ash’s arm around Mett’s shoulders, causing Mett to hunch just a little since they were pretty close in height with the few centimeters of heel in Mett’s usual boots. It was slow progress to the turbolift, up to Deck 17, through the corridors to Mett’s residential complex. They had to stop twice, mostly out of an abundance of caution as Ash’s osteoblasts worked overtime repairing his left femur and ribs. 

Ash enjoyed the prolonged closeness and pondered what it would be like to have the opportunity to engage in this kind of contact as much as he wanted for the next fourteen days. It felt like shadows of his days on _Discovery_ , when he really thought he was just Ash Tyler, before Voq had been awakened, when he had thought a life with Michael was his future. Even though they had plenty to do on board the ship, Ash had been able to seek out Michael often, from having lunch together to falling into bed.

Suddenly, Mett and Michael appeared side-by-side in Ash’s mind’s eye. Mett taller by at least 15 centimeters, slightly broader in shoulder, both of them confident and proud. Michael more obviously curved and stereotypically feminine, Mett more angular and androgynous, both beautiful. Mett’s hair appeared as it was that first night they collided, down to his waist in a long, thick curtain. Michael wore that private smile that Ash came to know in their quiet moments together. Mett shifted his weight to the other foot and smiled more broadly, then looked over his shoulder and Chris moved into frame. He was also smiling, wrapped his arms around Mett’s shoulders, kissed the side of Mett’s neck while looking at Ash with a sparkle in his eyes. 

_Them._

The Michael of Ash’s mind nodded once, expression still warm, and faded away. Then Ash’s attention was fully drawn to Mett and Chris. The images didn’t speak, but both looked to him now, and Mett made a beckoning motion with his head. Ash approached the images. He stopped in his mindscape just when Mett stopped moving in reality.

Stopped at Mett’s front door Ash turned Mett to face him. He balanced with one hand on the wall, the other moving to Mett’s cheek. “I love you, Kyamo.” 

A pretty blush bloomed on Mett’s cheeks, so Ash kissed him softly. “I love you, too, Kiima.” Mett said in between kisses, “par’Mach’kai.” More kissing as Mett keyed the door code in and they shuffled inside. 

Ash ended up on the bed, on his back, the loose clothing from the medbay on the floor along with his underwear. Mett was stripped down to his boyshorts, bottle of lavender oil from the nightstand in one hand as he kneeled next to Ash. 

Slick hands started up one of Ash’s legs, alternately pressing and stroking. “This will be fun _and_ stimulate circulation.” Mett smirked up at him.

Ash let himself sink into the mattress and groaned as Mett’s hands moved up his thigh, back down to shin. “Blood is certainly going to flow somewhere… fuck that feels good.” Ash had known, hypothetically, what a massage was, had heard tell that there was a difference between someone trained and just a friend rubbing your shoulders. But this? Good gods.

Mett called to the computer to turn on some music and something lo-fi and almost meditative came through the speakers. Mett might have been saying words to him, but Ash couldn’t really process, lost to sensations of alternating pressure and light touch. Shin, thigh, back down to calf, ankle, foot. Mett avoided pressure on the left leg for the moment, moved to Ash’s right hand, spending some time there, then up his arm, to biceps, deltoid. 

Ash’s brain registered that Mett had been speaking again only from the absence of the sound over the background of music. Then a deep laugh rumbled up from another dip in the mattress to Ash’s left. It took effort for him to focus on it, which was only really possible because Mett’s hands had stilled. 

“You sure he is alright?” Chris’s voice was teasing. Then the sound of kissing and Mett humming out a purr. Mett did that when his hair was pulled just so during a kiss, so Ash could picture exactly what was happening without opening his eyes.

“He deserves to be a little blissed out, don’t you think?” Mett’s hands started moving to Ash’s chest and Ash had to concentrate on following the conversation. 

“I wasn’t stopping you.” The bed sank as Chris laid out beside Ash. “Am I in your way if I watch from here?”

Ash reached out with his left hand, trailed along Chris’s clothed thigh and (pleasant surprise) shirtless abdomen. Chris found Ash’s hand with his own and interlaced their fingers. “He lives.” Chris laughed.

Ash hummed and turned his head to Chris. When he opened his eyes Chris was surprisingly close, leaning on his elbow next to Ash’s head, looking down at him with a fond expression. “Hey there. Ev’rything go a’right?” Ash mumbled.

“Three idiots in the brig.” He nodded. “They haven’t spoken yet, but give them time. Command said they might hand them over to 31 for questioning, which, given the Section’s loyalty to you over most Starfleet ideals, might be… interesting.” Ash just closed his eyes and nodded, leaning just a little so he could nuzzle Chris’s upper arm as Mett continued to massage his chest. Chris laughed. “You’re cute when you’re pliant, Kiima.”

Ash could feel a bit of flush rise on his cheeks, but otherwise he didn’t respond to Chris. He did moan a little when Mett moved around to his neck and the top of his shoulders. 

“Hey, Kiima?” Mett asked as he moved to Ash’s left arm, leaning down and over Chris to do so. Ash opened his eyes, took a second to focus on Mett. “I am going to talk to Chris. You are welcome to listen, but you don’t need to participate. Lay back and enjoy the massage.”

Ash let his head sink into the pillow further and closed his eyes again. “Yessir.”

Mett crawled onto the left side of the bed, straddling Chris’s knees to get to Ash’s recovering left thigh. His touch was softer here, heavier on the oil, too. “Did you mean that earlier, Chris? That Ash is stuck with _us_? I read the look you gave me as yes, but this is too important to hang on a look.”

Ash felt Chris squeeze his hand before he spoke. “Yes, I mean it. I have been in both open and closed relationships, although I have tended more towards monogamy as I have gotten older. But I think that has mostly been out of convenience, because it is less work to invest in only one relationship. And my ship and my crew always take up emotional energy as well as physical time.” Chis paused. Mett had moved down to Ash’s feet, which felt amazing, but Ash was also working hard to concentrate on the conversation. He even kept his eyes closed to focus on just the sounds. “After Vina… monogamy appeals less to me. Although until recently I didn’t have anyone else in mind other than you, Mett.”

Mett moved to Ash’s other foot. “Vina… I have heard you say that name before, picked up bits and pieces, but I don’t know the whole story.” Ash could feel Chris go tense next to him. “But at your pace, love. I am just glad to hear you say this is something you want.” Chris relaxed while Mett nudged Ash. “Turn over, Kiima.” Ash released Chris’s hand and turned over onto his stomach, head turned to one side so that he could still hear. Mett oiled his hands again and slid up the back of Ash’s legs, back down to really focus on the calves. “I knew you wouldn’t bat an eye at me and Ash as fuckbuddies, but I wasn’t sure about something more serious. I wasn’t honestly considering something more serious until I was here with both of you. And then something just… clicked.” Mett sighed. “This is going to sound so stupid, but here with you two I suddenly felt… whole. Whole in a way that I didn’t even know I had been missing something.” Mett chuckled to himself. “That sounds so cliche.”

Ash sighed into the pillow. “You aren’t the only one, Kyamo.” Ash said, not opening his eyes. 

“Oh really?” Ash could hear Mett’s smile in his voice. He playfully massaged up to Ash’s ass, pressed into the gluteal muscles. “I am glad you feel the same, par’Mach’kai.” Ash just hummed in response, could feel Mett turn to Chris a little. “Par’Mach is a Klingon version of love. Doesn’t exactly translate into Standard… love, but more intense, a bit more aggressive. So, par’Mach’kai is like lover, but a little more serious? Like a mate? But not with such animalistic or permanent connotations? Ugh, I am not a good translator…”

Ash felt the Voq side of him supply some context and he let those words float to the surface. “The focus is loyalty and commitment in love. The situation could change in the future, but now, in this moment, you are fiercely committed to this individual… or these individuals, par’Mach’kaipu’”

"Par’Mach’kai” Chris tested the word in his mouth, stumbled over some of the more guttural sounds, but Ash grinned. 

“Par’Mach’kai” Mett said once and Ash heard him kissing Chris. Then Ash felt Mett climbing up his body, laying out along his back, weight on Ash’s right side. “Par’Mach’kai.” He whispered into Ash’s ear, nuzzled into dark hair. Mett pulled his own legs up and sat on Ash’s bare ass, started sliding his hands up and down Ash’s back. “How are you feeling, Kiima?” He asked just as he slid his hands across Ash’s shoulders, in opposite directions away from the spine. 

Honestly, Ash felt wonderful. Relaxed, only slightly sore from his injuries, and emotionally light as a feather. “Fan-fucking-tastic.” A yawn escaped unbidden. “Sleepy.” 

Mett’s laugh was positively bubbly. “It is late and we’ve all barely even eaten. Snack and then sleep?” 

Ash could feel the mattress shift as both Mett and Chris stood. He rolled onto his good side and watched them. 

Chris looked back at the bed, smiled at Ash. “How are the sleeping arrangements working? I can take the couch…”

“Oh!” Mett jumped. “You haven’t been here before!” Ash chuckled as Mett moved around to the side of the bed facing the outer wall. The bed was snug for two, that was true, but Mett had more than a few tricks up his sleeve, as Ash had experienced here the last time they were together in person, over two years ago. Mett slid the tufted settee that sat under a wide vid screen down the wall and almost into the living room. Then he crouched down and pulled something out from underneath the bed. A second full-sized mattress rolled out and then popped up to the level of the first, making one rather stupidly large continuous bed with a narrow gap in the middle.

Chris whistled. “I was wondering why there was so much passing room on that side of the bed.” He shook his head as he smiled. “You planning for lots of threesomes in your life?”

“Well, that was one of the options.” Mett sidled up to Chris and arched his body suggestively into the Captain’s side. “The other fun part is that it has D-rings at each corner and other various attachment points along the sides. Forty-two different configurations of straps and counting.” Mett’s voice dropped low enough that Ash had to strain to hear it. “I told you that Kiima and I play rough.” He rolled his hips into the side of Chris’s ass.

Suddenly Chris’s eyes flashed bright and he threw Mett onto the bed in front of Ash. Chris slid out of his pants as he crawled forward. “I’ve got another idea for a snack…” Ash laughed as Mett looked flabbergasted in the best possible way.

Then Chris was on top of Mett, the kiss open-mouthed and filthy. Ash put his head down on his own bicep to get a better view. He knew that he shouldn’t engage with them in such activity, not until he was healed more, but damn if it wasn’t insanely hot to watch. 

Chris’s hand was down between Mett’s legs as they kissed. Well, more like Chris tongue-fucked Mett’s face. Speaking of aggressive overtones to love… good _gods_. 

Mett was squirming beneath him, pressed down hard into the mattress, probably light on oxygen because Chris wasn’t letting up. Chris’s free hand had pinned Mett’s left wrist above his head, but Mett’s other hand was raking red welts into the skin of Chris’s back. Ash knew from how Mett’s thighs were alternately tensing and releasing, his hips snapping down onto Chris’s hand instead of rolling, that he was about to climax.

Chris pulled away just in time to watch Mett fall over the edge, to let Mett sob a string of curses through heaving breaths. Ash laughed softly, enjoying how wrecked Mett looked from just that round. Because Chris clearly wasn’t done yet. He turned Mett onto his left side, now facing Ash, and motioned for Ash to move in closer. Ash couldn’t refuse and pressed his chest to Mett’s, nuzzled his flushed cheek. “Not done yet, Kyamo.”

Ash looked over and saw Chris bend Mett’s right leg, the one not pressed into the mattress, and lift it up, hooking Mett’s knee over one of his elbows. Ash looked back at Mett and knew the moment Chris slid himself into Mett’s vagina to the hilt, one long stroke that made Mett’s gaze even more unfocused, his breath come out in a loud _UNH._

A snap of Chris’s hips and Mett arched into Ash, eyes fluttering closed in pleasure and a long moan falling from Mett’s lips and onto Ash’s. Chris was forceful but took his time in between thrusts, and Ash slid his hand down to rub at Mett’s clit. 

Mett keened, buried a hand in Ash’s hair, tugged hard as he bit at Ash’s mouth. When they parted Mett cried out, “Pleaseharderpleasepleaseharder…”

Chris growled and obliged. Ash was watching Mett’s face intently, timing the change in pace of his fingers to Mett’s expression shifting. Suddenly there was a loud crack that echoed in the room, the sound of Chris’s hand hitting Mett’s ass hard enough to leave a mark. Mett sobbed “Yes!” 

Ash slid his gaze upward as Chris sped up again, watching as he lifted Mett’s leg higher to thrust even deeper and smacked Mett’s ass again. Ash curled his fingers, ran blunt nails lightly over Mett’s clit, and Mett shifted into high-pitched whines that spilled out on every thrust. Another sharp smack and Mett was coming, dropping into a low-pitched groan.

Chris kept thrusting into the now malleable body under him. Ash kissed Mett’s forehead then got up to his knees. He grabbed Chris’s hair and pulled his face forward to Ash’s lips, a kiss that immediately progressed to tongue and teeth. Chris came with a shuddering moan and Ash swallowed the sounds greedily. 

They slid down to the bed, ended up pressed to either side of Mett, everyone’s eyes closed and peaceful. Ash drifted towards the edges of sleep, fingers tangled with Chris’s on Mett’s hip, Mett’s fingers absently stroking Ash’s chest hair. 

Mett sighed. “ ‘m sticky.” 

“I got you, love.” Chris kissed Mett’s shoulder and went into the bathroom, trailed his fingers along Ash’s bare thigh as he went past.

Ash caressed the side of Mett’s face. “I did listen when you were talking to Chris. I’ve never been part of something like this before, Kyamo.” Mett opened his eyes and smiled at Ash. “I am nervous. Excited, definitely excited. But also nervous.”

“You are nervous because you care, Kiima.” Chris said as he came back, started cleaning up Mett with a warm washcloth. “I am, too, if it makes you feel better.” He moved around to settle behind Ash, curled around his back so that now Ash was the one in the middle. Ash suddenly understood that peaceful look on Mett’s face moments earlier and he felt his eye flutter closed. “I have been in open relationships, but a committed triad is new.” Chris was up on one arm, kissed Ash’s shoulder. “Remember the shuttle?” 

Ash huffed out a laugh at the non sequitur. “You mean the shuttle where we were almost stuck together in said shuttle for eternity swirling around a time rift? That shuttle?” 

“Oh, I heard this story... “ Mett murmured, eyes still closed. “Chris, you told me all about how Ash saved you. Your knight in shining flight vest.” 

Ash craned his neck back in time to see Chris blush down to his collarbones. “Yeah, well.” Chris cleared his throat before looking Ash in the eye. “I’ve always wanted to ask you… when we both reached for that switch…afterwards you just stared and stared. I blew it off at the time, but...”

Ash knew _exactly_ what Chris was talking about, with a clarity that belied that it occurred well over four years earlier. He settled onto his back so that he could look at Chris properly, maintaining eye contact easier. “Oh, I remember. I always found you attractive, in that distant way you admire someone unattainable. Like you might appreciate a piece of art.” Ash brought a hand up and cupped Chris’s jaw. “But for some reason that skin-to-skin touch shocked everything into perspective for me. Suddenly, I fucking _wanted_ you. Under me, over me, in me.” Ash smiled. “It was a bit of a shock.”

It was Chris’s turn to huff a laugh. “Sounds like it.” He leaned into Ash’s touch. “I think my physical attraction to you is part of why I was such an asshole at first. I couldn’t tell what was my gut instinct to trust you despite all the red flags on paper and what was the fact that the last time I had gotten laid was… well, an illusion.”

Both Ash and Mett perked up at that. “Vina?” Mett’s voice was quiet and soft. 

Chris nodded, looked down, uncomfortable. “It was… complicated is the understatement of the century.” He leaned in to Ash’s shoulder, partially hiding his face while he spoke. And it was so unusual for Chris to hide from something that Ash felt himself curling an arm around him, soothing with long strokes to his back. Mett clearly noticed as well, shifted to sit up above them and pulled Chris’s head into his lap, running his fingers through grey hair. Ash moved as well, shifting so that his head was also in Mett’s lap, if only to allow Chris to continue to hide his face in Ash’s collarbone. Chris let out a breath. “The short version is that the Talosians lured the _Enterprise_ to their planet, captured me, and used psychological manipulation and illusions to try to get Vina and I to produce human slaves to repopulate their planet. I am embarrassed by how close it came to working. They offered me a life, an illusion, with everything I wanted… well, at the time at least. Worst of it is, Vina really did love me. Hell, they let her keep an illusory version of me.”

There was a moment of silence as Ash and Mett kept petting Chris, holding him. “I am so sorry, Chris.” Mett whispered, traced fingers around his ear, down to his nape, up through his hair, scratched at the scalp. 

Chris hummed, his eyes now closed. “To be fair, I don’t think even the Talosians could have come up with this particular arrangement.” Ash felt a ghost of a smile curl Chris’s lips. 

Ash turned and kissed Chris’s forehead, one eyebrow, the bridge of his nose, his lips. “We’ve got you, Yatkap’ich.” Then it hit Ash like a train. “That’s why you marked us, isn’t it? You were keeping track of reality.”

Mett inhaled sharply while Chris gave a rueful chuckle. “Got it in one.”

“Well, I won’t speak for Kiima, but please, oh please, mark me all you want.” Mett’s fingers curled around Chris’s neck, pressed into the spot on him where he had marked both Mett and Ash. “Although, you should know, Una clocked it immediately.” Chris mumbled something about obnoxiously observant first officers. “We should ask Una and Spock to come over for dinner tomorrow. Here. Nothing fancy, keep Ash on the down-low while shit gets figured out. It’ll be like old times. That is… as long as we don’t mind them knowing?”

Ash shook his head. He would fucking crow this from the rooftops if it wouldn’t put them all in danger. The thought of telling other people felt hilariously good. “Your call, Chris. They’re your crew.”

Chris opened his eyes and looked at Ash, at Mett. “I want them to know. Officially. I wonder if they have a bet going…”

“Seems likely.” Ash chuckled at his own idea. “Let’s throw it back at ‘em. I bet you they have a bet _and_ that Spock wins it.” Chris outright laughed and Ash beamed that he was the cause.

“You are on! Una totally takes their bet.” Chris was grinning stupidly. “If I win you are going to find me that lager.”

“And if I win you owe me _real_ bloodwine.” Ash smiled and Chris whistled at the stakes. 

“Oh no. I want in on this.” Mett interjected. “I say they don’t have a bet at all. They _joked_ about having a bet, but never went through with it. And if I win I get one night of costuming rights.”

Ash looked from Mett to Chris and back. They both looked as happy as Ash felt. “Oh yeah. Game on.” Ash paused for emphasis. “Par’Mach’kaipu’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost a millennium into the future, Captain Michael Burnham had a strangely pleasant dream. She had been standing close to Ash Tyler, someone she hadn't thought about in a lifetime, as he looked down at her fondly. She felt the warmth of his gaze and couldn't help but smile at him. Then Ash's head shot up and his attention focused to his right. When Michael followed his line of sight she saw two others standing a couple meters away. While she didn't recognize one of the people, the silver-haired man draped around the other person's shoulders was most definitely Captain Christopher Pike. Both of them only had eyes for Ash.
> 
> Michael looked back to Ash. His own expression was nothing short of adoring as he looked at the pair and took a couple steps towards them. When he looked back to Michael she had no doubt... Ash Tyler was in love. Deeply in love.
> 
> Go. Michael thought, knowing her expression was soft.
> 
> When Michael awoke she looked up to Book, who was still asleep, Grudge nestled up against the top of his head. She knew with a breathtaking certainty that Ash Tyler, wherever and whenever he was, had found happiness just like hers.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris daydreams himself into a bit of a panic attack, but Ash and Mett are there to pull him out... and into that bath tub Mett referenced earlier. Cue tub sexytimes followed by some Chris/Ash fluff.

As Chris gently slid into wakefulness he realized the bed beneath him was snoring softly. His head was resting on a pillow, but his nose and cheek were pressed against the skin of a muscled shoulder, his body partially propped on his partner’s, his leg thrown over the other’s thigh. He twitched his fingers and brushed thick chest hair. Chris realized there was an arm around his waist and he shifted his attention to follow the path of that arm and felt a long line of warmth curled around his back, pressed to the angles of his body from ankle to shoulder. A steady rhythm of breaths ghosted over the back of his neck. Chris felt relaxed, peaceful, and content.

A guy could get used to this in the morning.

He laid there and savored the moment, tried in earnest to imprint every detail into his memory for recall later. Chris was loathe to think about it even indirectly, but he knew that memories of this would help him survive the next months… months that could end up being a year or longer if things didn’t go well. And things often didn’t go strictly “well” on the _Enterprise_...

“You are thinking really loudly, love.” Mett’s quiet voice tickled his ear.

Chris didn’t open his eyes, but did find Mett’s hand where it was on his stomach and interlaced their fingers. “M’sorry.” 

Mett pressed impossibly closer, lips now brushing the nape of Chris’s neck as he spoke. “What’d’you say to me? _I am not gone yet?_ ”

“We,” came a rumbling from somewhere under and above Chris. “ _We_ are not gone yet.” Ash placed his hand over Chris and Mett's intertwined fingers.

Chris let the fluttery feeling in his ribcage settle into his stomach. He sighed and with that let himself be weighed down by the moment, sinking into the space between Mett and Ash. As his mind drifted Chris thought about his family’s land outside of Mojave, the old cabin there that was sorely in need of renovation, the barn whose structural beams were all that was left of the original building. And he saw Mett there, grousing about tetanus shots as Chris and Ash started removing old shingles from the roof. A renewed barn with a bunch of guinea hens and chickens skittering outside. Chris giving Ash a leg up to slide onto the saddle behind Mett, the younger man’s first time on a horse. Mett’s giddy laughter as they snuck out before dawn, hopped on their horses without saddle or bit, and raced towards the sunrise while Ash slept in their bed. 

It wasn’t the first time Chris had thought about what he would do if he were no longer in Starfleet, thought about retiring before the job did it for him. Well, apparently not retiring, not according to what happened on Boreth, but maybe a sabbatical. Something to remind him why he spent so little time on the ground. But this was the first time he had felt it so sharply. Those moments felt so real it was almost like an illusion…

Unbidden, his heart rate started to rise and his muscles tightened and his breathing became labored. Chris heard himself gasp distantly, as if he was overhearing from another room. He watched from somewhere outside his body, as Ash and Mett reacted immediately, pulling him to sit upright, Mett kneeling behind him and rubbing his shoulders, Ash cupping his face and trying to get Chris to focus on him. Chris saw his own expression remain panicked and distant. Ash looked more frantic, Mett more concerned. They made eye contact over the top of Chris’s head and he looked on as…

Pain shot through Chris’s left shoulder as Mett’s nails dug into the deltoid muscle and Chris came back into himself with a shout. Ash slumped back on his heels as Chris looked over to see tiny crescents of blood on his skin. Mett’s hands had moved to rub up and down his arms. Chris felt Mett’s forehead press between his shoulder blades. “You okay there, Yatkap?” Mett breathed out in a puff of air.

Chris slowly looked up to Ash, made eye contact for a long moment, nodded once. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Ever.” Ash was back to holding Chris’s face in both hands, stroking softly. Ash’s expression was deeply compassionate. Chris knew that Ash _knew_ what had just happened to him and there was no judgement there.

Mett pressed his chest along Chris’s back, chin on his shoulder, and concentrated on regular breaths, which helped Chris steady his own breathing. “You want to talk about it?”

Chris sighed and looked down. It seemed pretty stupid in hindsight, Ash’s overflowing compassion aside. “I was… I had drifted into daydream. About us. All of us. And it was _so real_.” He inhaled deeply, steadying himself again. “Then it occurred to me that it was so much more _real_ than any daydream I had ever had, like... an illusion…” Chris trailed off.

“Maybe it was a premonition?” Chris could feel Mett’s smile against the skin of his neck. 

That got Chris to huff out a shadow of a laugh. “Y’all planning on helping me restore the Pike homestead to its former glory?”

Mett outright laughed and Ash broke into a lopsided grin. “If I end up dirtside, that is exactly what I want to be doing.” 

“I could think of worse chapters in this story.” Ash chimed in. 

Chris looked up into Ash’s warm brown eyes, felt Mett’s arms tighten around his chest, and in that instant he knew in his bones that if he somehow got grounded, they would not let him be alone. Even with all the distance of space, he was not alone anymore. It was a heady feeling and he sagged back against Mett. “Thank you.”

Mett hugged him tightly. “Always.” There was a beat of comfortable silence before Mett spoke up again. “Do either of you want to join me for a dip in my _don’t-ask-me-how-I-got-this-but-yes-it-is-real-water_ tub?”

“Hells yes.” Ash was already up and tugging on Chris’s hand to move them towards the bathroom, albeit slowly and with a limp. 

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Chris chuckled as he let himself be led around the bed. 

“Apparently not!” Mett rolled off the other side of the bed to get into the bathroom first, started punching things into the control panel. 

Chris whistled as he looked at the filling tub. Well, “bathtub” didn’t quite cover it. There was a hot tub out behind the cabin they had rented on Lake Tahoe for Spring Break of his second year at the Academy… it had ostensibly been for eight people, but they had crammed in fourteen at one point. Philippa’s tactical mind was quick to puzzle them all into the most _efficient_ configuration. This looked about half that size. 

“There’s a happy face.” Ash pulled Chris to him by his hips, kissed his lips gently. Chris let his eyes flutter closed. “What were you thinking about?”

Chris shook his head with a laugh as he opened his eyes. “Last time I was in a tub that fit multiple people was at a cabin during one ridiculous Spring Break trip a bunch of us cadets went on. We crammed like fourteen of us into an eight-person hot tub. And by _we_ I mean Philippa calculated the most efficient placement for every single person, determined to fit every last drunken idiot of us in. Pretty sure she put me half in Alex’s lap to try and make Kat spontaneously combust in embarrassment. But joke was on both of them, because Alex Cornwell and I fucked like rabbits for the remainder of the trip. Which was, incidentally, how they all learned I batted for any team.” Chris watched as Ash lit up with mirth. He couldn’t help but return the smile.

“Longjaw?” Mett asked from his seat on the side of the tub.

Chris looked over and nodded. “And so the legend of Longjaw was born,” he purposefully used a booming, proud voice.

Both Ash and Mett broke into peals of laughter. Ash ran a hand along Chris’s jaw and tilted his head back and then back more and Chris felt teeth following Ash’s fingers along his jaw. Chris couldn’t suppress his shudder. “You’re gonna show me that talent soon, Yatkap.” Ash’s voice was thick and heavy in his ear. Chris breathed out a moan. He could feel Ash getting hard against his stomach, feel a hand caressing his neck. “Going to come down this lovely throat.” Chris swooned a little, leaning into Ash’s chest.

There was a splashing sound and Chris turned his head to see Mett standing in the tub, water up almost to his knees. He watched as Mett ran a wet hand down from his neck, leaving a glistening trail over his chest, along his stomach, and then in between his thighs. “You two gonna leave me all alone over here?”

Ash’s eyes got impossibly brighter and he tilted his head towards the bath, a silent question to Chris. Chris couldn’t contain his grin.

Mett and Chris helped a slightly unsteady Ash into the square-ish tub. If he was sitting upright Ash could let his legs out completely straight in front of him. Once Ash was seated Chris watched Mett kneel in front of Ash, on his right side, always careful of that left leg, and started carding wet hands through dark hair. Chris got in behind Mett, sliding right up behind him and pressing his mostly-hard cock into the cleft of Mett’s pale, smooth ass. 

Chris groaned as Mett pushed back into him, looking over his shoulder coyly. Once they made eye contact Mett pushed back again, rolling his hips a little and causing the water to rock around their upper thighs. With three bodies in the water the level had risen, so when Chris sat back on his heels and pulled Mett’s hips into his lap, they ended up with his dick sliding against Mett’s vulva underwater. Mett gasped as Chris already started guiding himself into a slick pussy. “No foreplay?” Mett was panting as he was slowly breached and yet was still able to be a sarcastic bastard.

“That _was_ the foreplay.” Chris snapped his hips forward and Mett lurched across Ash’s lap from the force, catching himself from falling with hands on the opposite rim of the tub. Chris shifted a little, so they were closer to Ash, perpendicular to him, with Mett hovering over his lap and his side against Ash’s chest. 

Ash chuckled and brushed Mett’s hair away from his face. “You have any lube near, par’Mach’kai?” 

Mett shook his head. “No. I didn’t think things would progress this quickly.” Chris slowly pulled out and Mett whimpered when he was fully gone. “Don’t even think about it. Rough is better than me leaving right now to go rummaging through the cabinet.” 

Chris smirked, shrugged, and slid back into Mett, who leaned into Ash’s chest and keened. 

Ash met Chris’s eyes. “How do you feel, Kyamo? Full?”

Mett hiccuped a few moans as Chris kept up a slow rocking and then murmured, “Mmmgood.” Mett had his head turned to lean into his own elbow, facing Ash, looking up at him with glazed eyes.

Ash ran his hand through Mett’s hair again. “Mmm, I think you need more, love.” 

Chris watched as Ash’s hand slid between Mett’s thighs and fingers pressed to where Chris’s cock was buried into Mett. Ash circled the base of Chris’s cock for a moment, squeezed tight, and Chris hissed. And then Chris’s hiss dropped into a groan as Ash’s finger pushed into Mett alongside Chris’s cock. 

“Holy fuck, Kiima!” Mett shouted. “Oh, yellow. But oh _fuck_ that stretch hurts _good_.”

Chris pulled out slowly and the head of his cock caught on the tip of Ash’s finger. Bliss shot icy hot through his veins. “ _Christ_ ,” he curled over Mett’s body, pressed his forehead to Mett’s spine, and panted through shaky moans hands pressing bruises into Mett's hips. When he pushed into Mett again Ash slid his finger in further. They continued like that for god knows how long, until the noises coming out of Mett’s mouth were making Chris dizzy with the need to come. He slowed his movement to a near halt, nowhere near ready to end this. 

After some steadying breaths Chris straightened his back again, rolled his hips back. But this time Ash’s finger followed him on the movement. Chris’s eyes locked with Ash’s and the smirk Chris saw there was downright dangerous. Almost wary, Chris slowly let himself slide back into Mett, and _fucking hell_ Ash slid a second finger in with him this time. 

Mett sobbed in pleasurable pain and actually pushed back against them _hard_ , water sloshing over the side of the tub with the force of it. Ash let out a pleased laugh. “That’s it, Kyamo, that’s it. You’re taking it so well, so perfect.” 

Chris felt the curve of each of Ash’s knuckles along his dick, the back of his hand pressed into his balls when he sunk in as far as he could, the slight scrape of blunt nails along the length of the underside of him as he moved, and Mett was _so fucking tight_ around him that Chris was on the verge of blacking out into a frenzied race to orgasm.

He was jolted out of it when Ash crooked his fingers down into Mett with enough force to cause Chris’s knees to slide forward along the bottom of the tub. Mett’s moan was punched out of him, dropping into something low, guttural, and animal. 

“There it is. Knew you were in there somewhere.” Ash leaned over to get as close to Mett’s ear as possible given his still-healing ribs. “You’re gonna come like this, par’Mach’kai.” 

“Oh no you don’t.” Chris suddenly wanted to wipe that smug look off of Ash’s pretty face. And since he couldn’t reach to do it with his own mouth, this would have to do. Chris released Mett’s left hip, slid his hand between Ash and Mett’s bodies, and grabbed Ash’s hard cock in a firm grip. 

Ash’s head snapped in Chris’s direction so hard his neck audibly cracked. His nostrils flared around a ragged inhale and Chris could see now that his pupils were blown wide. Chris refused to break eye contact as he matched the stroke of his hand with the rock of his hips, speeding up both. 

The combination of Ash’s fingers curling, pressing down, along with Chris’s thrusts, had Mett coming within a few minutes. Then he was reduced to mewling quiet repetitions of _yes_ and _please_ as his body was used for their pleasure. But Chris was focused on Ash now, pumping him tight and hard. They were staring daggers at one another, neither willing to give up first. Ash parted his fingers, now bracketing Chris’s shaft while catching the glans at two distinct points with each pull back. Chris felt his own jaw drop open as his chest heaved with his own panting breaths.

Not to be outdone, Chris tested a hypothesis, curved his index finger so his nail firmly caught just under the slit of Ash’s cock on the downstroke. Ash’s eyes rolled back in his head with a high pitched whine and his eyes closed, finally ending their staring contest. _Hypothesis confirmed_.

Since Ash no longer had visual, Chris took another tactic. He knew full well the effect his voice could have on people, both in and out of the bedroom. It took him a couple of awkward-moment-filled years as an ensign, but once Chris learned exactly how to pitch it with his partners, fine-tuned how much was the right saturation of on-the-bridge command voice painted in just the right hue of sensuality and at exactly the opportune time… well. Chris started to roll his palm over the head of Ash’s dick, lightly traced the slit with his nail on the way down. “You’re going to come for me, Kiima...” Ash swallowed around his own moan and Chris knew he had him. One more roll and trace, then another, then Chris hooked his nail in hard while commanding, “ _Now._ ”

The shout that tumbled from Ash’s lips was all surprise as he came wide-eyed at Chris’s command. Chris distantly heard Mett’s giggle, the _I told you so_ apparent even without words. A few more frantic thrusts, pressing down into Ash’s fingers, and Chris let himself go.

Mett was the first to move, carefully allowing both Ash and Chris to slip from him. He turned and cradled Ash’s face in both hands, a soft smile on his lips. “That wasn’t exactly in the doctor’s orders. How are you feeling?”

Ash’s eyes slowly opened and he hummed as he self-assessed. “Ribs are a little sore where I bent over you. Muscles in my thigh are only 75% thrilled with tightening as I came. So, overall, pretty good.” 

Chris maneuvered in to press against Ash’s good side, kissed his temple above Mett’s fingers. “I choose not to read that 75% as an insult.” He winked to make sure Ash knew he was joking. 

Ash leaned out of Mett’s hands and kissed Chris, wrapped an arm around his waist, pressed into his mouth with tongue for a moment before withdrawing. It was sweet and affirming and Chris felt absurdly content. “Only an insult if you refuse to use The Voice on me in bed again. Is that a natural talent or honed skill?”

Chris laughed. “Totally honed skill. Well, I suppose I don’t have as much control over the timbre of my voice, but exactly how and when to use it… practice makes perfect.”

“I want to hear the practice stories sometime.” Mett crawled over Ash and into Chris’s lap, a bottle in hand. “Would be good to know how our little _komshiare_ here wasn’t always such a perfect specimen.” Chris was glad to see the curious expression on Ash’s face as well at the unfamiliar word. Mett answered without the question being asked. “Cocopah for ah, leader? Best technical translation is _one who commands a group_ , so…” he shrugged with a smile. 

Mett poured some viscous liquid into his hand and started massaging suds into Chris’s hair. He closed his eyes and leaned into the sensation, but was careful to keep focused on the conversation.

“Fits with the theme... “ Ash’s voice was soft. “Kyamo, Kiima, Komshiare.” 

The giggle was most definitely Mett. “But I would miss my handsome bird…” his voice dropped into a whisper. “Yatkap’ich’ma.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Chris opened one eye. “And neither name is as short and sweet as Kiima or Kyamo.” Chris felt the need to point that last one out. But that being said, the fact that they were now debating over his nickname caused warmth to coil in his chest. “Y’all are going to be saying it more than I am, so doesn’t make much difference to me. Both are fitting, in their own ways. Neither would be embarrassing if someone translated. I guess the question is that when you refer to me do you want to be reminded of my silver fox good looks or the fact that I can make both of you come at a word?”

Ash laughed, warm and deep, and Chris closed his eyes and melted into it. “Well don’t make the decision easy on us!” 

Mett pushed on Chris’s shoulder as he moved carefully over Ash’s lap, “Rinse.” Chris could hear the muffled lilt of their conversation while he slid under the water and sat there for a moment, relishing the floating sensation, before popping back above the water. “... with you?” Mett had shifted to scrubbing Ash’s hair while he leaned back against the sloped side of the tub, looking meditatively happy. 

“I don’t have a problem with it. If you trust them, I do, too.” Ash answered without opening his eyes.

Chris wiped the water from his face. “Spock and Una?” Ash and Mett nodded. “Yeah, obviously, I would love to get the band back together, as you said, and to tell them, they are some of my closest friends, but if it makes you uncomfortable, Kiima…”

Ash shook his head and then let Mett carefully dump water through his hair, cupped handfuls at a time. “No.” He said when it was done. “If you want them to know, then I want them to know. I trust you.” 

Chris actually got a little choked up at that, swallowed around the cotton suddenly in his throat. “I… yeah.” He fidgeted for a moment and Ash rolled his head to the side to look at Chris and dammit if Chris couldn’t resist kissing him. It wasn’t often that Chris leant on actions over words, at least not in isolation, too much room for misinterpretation. But Ash said it so casually, as if unquestionable fact, when it was barely days ago that he was questioning Chris’s intentions with Mett, acting as if he wasn’t to be trusted with their lover.

The kiss was long and leisurely. When they parted one of Ash’s hands was on Chris’s neck while Chris leaned over Ash, hands in his hair and beard, truly cradling his head. “Thank you.” Chris whispered against his lips, looking deep into dark brown eyes.

“You earned it, par’Mach’kai.” Ash stroked up into his hair, a smile in his eyes. Chris was hesitant to identify it, but at this distance the look on Ash’s face matched one Chris had seen him give Mett earlier, bordering on adoration. The moment passed and Chris heard Mett washing himself in the tub, removed a bit from them, clearly giving them space. “Breakfast?” Ash suggested.

“Let’s finish getting cleaned up first.” Chris placed a peck at the corner of Ash’s mouth. “Then yes. Absolutely yes.”


End file.
